DEVOTION:
Scripture: John 20:1-18 (NIV)
"Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance." (John 20:1)
THOUGHT:
The story of Easter morning begins in the dark. Grief still hung in the air. Silence filled the tomb. Hopes seemed buried beneath the stone. But in the shadows of that early morning walk, something extraordinary was already unfolding—resurrection was on the move.
Mary Magdalene came to the tomb not expecting life, but to weep over death. She came to anoint a body, not to witness a miracle. But it is in her faithful coming—while it was still dark—that she becomes the first to hear the risen Savior speak her name.
“Mary.”
It wasn’t a trumpet that announced the resurrection. It wasn’t shouted from the rooftops. It was a personal call. Her name, spoken by the same voice that once delivered her from darkness, now called her into the light of a brand-new day.
This is the power and tenderness of Easter: Jesus meets us where we are—in our confusion, in our tears, in the half-light of understanding—and calls us by name.
Maybe that’s where you find yourself this morning. Perhaps still in a shadow, unsure of what the future holds. Maybe your hope has felt buried. But know this: the stone has been rolled away, and the tomb is empty—not just for the world, but for you. The grave could not hold the Savior. And if death couldn’t hold Him, then neither can fear, despair, or anything else that tries to keep you from the life He offers.
Let Easter morning rise in you like the sun—not all at once, but sure and steady. Let it warm the parts of your soul that have grown cold. Let it remind you that no night lasts forever, and no tomb is too sealed for our God. Because He lives, everything is changed.
PRAYER:
Almighty and Holy God, this Sunday morning, like most every morning, we come before You in the quiet and stillness of a world that so often feels loud with sorrow and unrest. We do not deny, Lord, that there are troubles in this world. Wars rage. Injustice lingers. Our nation groans with division, fear, and uncertainty. Even in our personal lives, we carry burdens—some seen, many unseen. Hearts are heavy. Questions remain unanswered. Tears still fall. And yet, this morning, this holy, radiant, resurrected morning, we lift our eyes above the brokenness and fix them on You, the Author of Life, the Conqueror of death, the Redeemer of all things.
Today, Lord, we choose to pause in reverent awe before an empty tomb. We are reminded that Your love is greater than our sin, Your grace is deeper than our shame, and Your mercy reaches farther than our fears. Amid a hurting world, we declare with trembling joy: You are risen. You are here. You are Lord. We give You thanks—not just for what You’ve done, but for who You are. For being the God who came close. The Savior who wept. The Lamb who bore it all. And the King who now lives and reigns forevermore.
In the light of Your resurrection, Lord, we are not without hope. In the assurance of Your victory, we are not without courage. And in the promise of Your return, we are not without direction. You call us by name, just as You called Mary that morning, and we are awakened to life anew. With all sincerity and overflowing gratitude, we say: Thank You for the cross. Thank You for the tomb.
And thank You, God, Lord Jesus, for the resurrection.
Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, let Your risen life rise within us. Let joy take root. Let peace reign. Let our worship be genuine, our faith be alive, and our love for others reflect the love You have poured out so abundantly upon us. I pray this Father for other church leaders that love covers agendas, sins, and sel-righteousness.
Lord God, King of Kings and Prince of Peace, when the world tempts us to despair again, remind us of this day—this glorious morning—when death was defeated and heaven shouted victory. We praise You, Jesus. We honor You. We adore You. This is the day You have made. We rejoice and are glad in it. Alleluia, Lord Jesus. You are risen indeed. In Your Holy name, Jesus, we pray. Amen.