“After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it.” (Matthew 28:1-2)
Matthew sets the scene with a degree of tenderness. The world is still half‑asleep, the sky just beginning to lighten, and two women — Mary Magdalene and ‘the other Mary’ — walk quietly toward the tomb.
We’re not told why they were going there, but I don’t think they were expecting any miracles. They were grieving and, most probably, they couldn’t think of anywhere better to grieve.
Their experience two nights earlier had been dramatic (to say the least). It’s always hard to lose someone you love, but I imagine it is catastrophically hard when the person you love is tortured to death in front of your eyes! God willing, none of us will ever have to live through anything like that.
It had been two days; the women are at least able to move again, though I imagine the scenes of Friday’s horror must still have been reeling around in their minds. And beyond the confusion and disillusionment about what had happened, they no doubt carried a quite realistic level of fear about the future. What would happen to them now? What possible future could they expect now for themselves?
I grew up as a teenager in the 1970s, and one of the things I remember from those days is that I, like most of my peers, carried a degree of dread about the future – never really confident that we’d get to reach adulthood due to the imminent threat of nuclear annihilation. Then, of course, I did grow up, and I looked back on those teenage years and thought how silly I had been for living in fear. Then, only a few years ago, I read Daniel Ellsberg’s book, “The Doomsday Machine”, and realised that I didn’t know the half of what was going on! I should have been more scared!
I don’t know if you’ve read “The Doomsday Machine” and I’m not suggesting that everyone should read it, but Ellsberg, who famously leaked “The Pentagon Papers” in 1971, was an insider – a whistleblower – and in “The Doomsday Machine”, Ellsberg describes the hidden decisions, the near misses, and the terrifying fragility of the systems that governed nuclear weapons in the 1950s and 60s. In short, it is an absolute bloody miracle that we are all still here!
More recently, I’ve felt that old and familiar dread creep back into my gut as I am genuinely fearful about where our world is heading at the moment. Of course I’m now not so worried about myself as I am about my children and my grandchildren and all our children. We are sailing in very treacherous waters at the moment, and when I look to see who is captaining this ship and see figures like Donald Trump with their hands on the steering wheel, my heart sinks.
I know I’m not the only one who carries fear for the future. Indeed, fear of the future seems to be woven into the human condition, and even if you’re not afraid of imminent nuclear destruction, you may nonetheless have valid fears for your own health or fear of losing your job or your home or someone you love.
And so we walk with the two Marys to the tomb – carrying our fears, our unanswered questions, our grief, and our dread – and then suddenly there’s an earthquake, and the stone that had been covering the tomb has been rolled back, and a weird guy who looks like he fell from the sky is sitting on the stone.
This is the gospel writer Matthew’s story of the resurrection, and it’s all rather confusing, which is the norm for the resurrection accounts in the Gospels, none of which actually give us an account of the resurrection! Whatever miracle had taken place that brought Jesus back must have happened while these women were sleeping or sitting at home.
‘He is not here’ – that’s what we do know – and the guy who looks like he’s from another planet has another message for them: ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee.’ (Matthew 28:7-8)
What happened? Where is Jesus? Why Galilee? There are so many things here that don’t make much sense and so many questions that we never get answered, but one thing is abundantly clear from each of the Gospels’ resurrection accounts, and that is that the story of Jesus is to be continued!
“He is not here… He has been raised… and He is going ahead of you.” There is a lot we don’t know, but those three things we do know, and that is enough because the story is going to continue, and we can work out the rest as we go!
I look at that empty tomb, and I am reminded, again, that God has the future in hand. Not in a way that excuses us from responsibility or invites us to sit back and just hope for the best, but in a way that tells us that the forces that threaten us are not all-powerful. The God who raised Jesus from the dead and who has carried humanity through any number of dangers that we never even knew about is the same God who carries us now.
I look again at the prow of this ship we are all sailing on – a ship that, yes, seems to be sailing off the edge of the world – but a closer look shows me that it’s not Donald Trump steering the ship. Jesus is at the helm – the same Jesus who steered us through the Cuban Missile Crisis and through all those near misses detailed in The Doomsday Device and who is, doubtless, able to steer us through this crisis too.
We don’t know how He’s going to do it, but that’s OK. We haven’t worked out how He pulled off the resurrection yet! Even so, we know enough.
“He is not here… He has been raised… and He is already moving ahead of us!”
It’s an old cliché but a good one – that “while we don’t know what the future holds, we do know who holds the future” or, as Corrie ten Boom put it, “Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.”
Do not be afraid! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
First published in Father Dave’s weekly newsletter – April 4th, 2026
