Mary at the Empty Tomb

“Mary cries. Can you picture her there? Can you understand her grief and her anger and her fear? She misses her Lord.”

On the first day of the week, Mary comes to the tomb with the spices that she has carefully prepared. But she is not alone. Other women are with her, all undoubtedly traumatized and frightened and floundering in a flood of grief.

It is early in the morning, so early that the garden is still dark. Perhaps they come before the sunrise to avoid being seen. Perhaps they are just that eager to minister to Him. Mark and Luke tell us that Mary actually enters the tomb when she finds—to her astonishment—that the stone has been rolled away. John simply records her urgent, and distraught, sprint to tell some of the disciples what she has discovered.

Mary first finds Simon Peter, and then John. And I can only imagine her distress when she tells them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him” (John 20:2). John tells us that upon hearing Mary’s news, Peter and John both bolt to the tomb. John describes their run to the garden as if it were a race. They are neck-and-neck for part of the way, but then the “other disciple” bursts ahead of Peter and arrives at the tomb first.

When the “disciple whom Jesus loved” arrives at the tomb, he stoops at the entrance, peers inside, and sees the linen wrappings. He doesn’t go in. But when Peter arrives, he bursts right through the open door. Then John describes the placement of the burial cloths in detail—because it matters so much. The linen wrappings are lying flat, and the face cloth is rolled up in another spot. Gary Burge explains why this is so significant: The scene is not chaotic or confused. Rather, something purposeful happened here. If someone had stolen the body, the clothes would be missing or at least strewn about. But here is a scene in which the body is missing but the clothes appear undisturbed. Jesus’ body has simply left them behind.

After a moment, John cautiously follows Peter into the tomb and takes it all in for himself. He records his own immediate response in these simple, but all-important, words: “He saw and he believed” (John 20:8). This might even be called the thesis statement of his book. John sees the empty tomb and the grave clothes lying in this unexpected order, and he can tell that this is not the work of a grave robber or the Roman guard. Rather, John believes, this is evidence of a resurrection. This is proof that Jesus is who He claimed to be. This is a final sign that He is the Son of God.

The scene with Peter and John finishes with a surprisingly simple statement, telling us that they go home. Only Mary remains. And she cries. Can you picture her there? Can you understand her grief and her anger and her fear? She misses her Lord. The word used here for “weeping” does not indicate “a quiet, restrained shedding of tears, but the noisy lamentation typical of Easterners of that day” (Leon Morris). So there, by the open grave in the dim light of early morning, she wails, and she sobs.

Eventually, she also stoops—still crying—and peers into the cave. Did she see something stirring inside that caused her to take a closer look? Was there a sudden glow emanating from within the tomb when the angels arrive? We don’t know for sure what motivated her curiosity, but we do know that Mary bends down and peers in.

And there, sitting on the burial slab, where the head and the feet of Jesus’ body would have been, are two angels. They call her “woman”—a gentle term of respect—and they ask her why she weeps. “They have taken away my Lord,” she says through the tears, “and I do not know where they have laid him” (John 20:13).

Turning away from the angels, Mary notices that a man is standing behind her. We know, of course, that it is Jesus. John tells us so. But Mary doesn’t recognize Him yet. Jesus, too, calls her “woman.” (There’s that term again.) He repeats the angels’ question. “Why are you weeping?” (John 20:15). Then He adds a key question of His own: “Whom are you seeking?”

We don’t know exactly why she comes to her initial conclusion about His identity. Was it still so dark that she couldn’t make out His face? Were her eyes blinded by her tears? Was there only one logical person she thought she might meet by the tomb at that hour?

Then Jesus says one word to her, undoubtedly using the loving tone of voice that He had always used. He utters her name: “Mary!” (v. 16). Instantly, then, she recognizes Him, and she is filled with immense joy. A joy almost too great for words, it seems, since she turns and cries only one familiar greeting in response: “Rabboni!”

Throughout the gospels, Jesus seeks women out. Here, in John 20, He chooses Mary as the first person to encounter His resurrected form. He selects her to be His “apostle to the Apostles,” His witness to the witnesses. He makes her His mouthpiece and fills her with the greatest message ever to be told.

—Adapted from Kelli Worrall’s book, Pierced & Embraced: Seven Life-Changing Encounters with the Love of Christ (Moody Publishers). Used by permission.