Death is a tyrant. It shows no favor. It knows nothing about mercy. It pays no attention to age or education or job or family or finances or notoriety. Death’s horrible work never stops, never takes a vacation, never goes A.W.O.L, never shrinks from assaulting its prey. When death comes, it doesn’t simply foreclose and leave homeless with a chance to eventually climb out of its clutches with a new start. It’s a life-robber. It steals hopes, ambitions, plans, loves, friendships, careers, family. It’s not daunted by medicine, virility, DNA, athleticism, or diet. Death takes. It never gives.

The past weeks serve to remind us that death has no boundaries. By now, most of us have known someone that died due to the pandemic. Of course, while it rages, the other claws of death continue unabated. Death has endless ways to take and rob. “The day you eat from it [the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and so, sin!] you will surely die,” God warned our first parents. And so, death has followed the human race from those first parents throughout history. “The wages of sin is death,” Paul tells us. Sin in nature leads to sin in practice, leading to death. Death is the one thing we all have in common with the powerful and downtrodden, the rich and the poor, the achiever and the sloth, the superstar and the unknown. Death equalizes the human race.

That is, until Jesus entered into the human race. Death angrily pursues. But our Savior Christ Jesus “abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel” (2 Tim. 1:10). Death, the great equalizer, is no match for the Life-giver Jesus Christ. Death’s penalty, Jesus took on Himself at the cross. Death’s hold, Jesus took with Himself in the tomb. Death’s power, Jesus took from this enemy in the resurrection. Our eternity rests on the empty tomb. There, death lost its power and grip, its victory and sting (1 Cor. 15:54–57). Jesus triumphed over it! But how do we know that Jesus conquered death? Let’s look at the story and the significance in this narrative.

The Story

The resurrection story began in the tomb. Fifth century Greek transcribers of the New Testament divided it into chapters. Their original break was in the midst of Luke 23:56, “And on the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.”[1] They saw the tension between Jesus taken from the cross and placed into the tomb on Friday, waiting until Sunday for the resurrection. That’s where we see our story start to develop.

Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James at least, and others likely, including Joanna, had stayed on Golgotha until the bitter end. Their Lord Jesus, whom they had followed from Galilee, whom they’d listened to, learned from, and watched day-after-day as He loved the poor, healed the sick, fed the desperate, raised the dead, and taught the hungry hearted, now dead. They knew that no one had ever been like Him. None could compare to Him; not Moses, David, Elijah, or Jeremiah. Surely, He was the Son of God as He testified. So why did He so willingly go to the cross? Could not He who raised the dead have avoided death?[2] It was as if He knew the cross as His destiny. He didn’t flinch at the arrest, mock trial, barbaric treatment, and carrying the cross. He went like a lamb led to the slaughter, like a sheep silent before its shearers, not opening His mouth to defend Himself or to correct the accusations (Isa. 53:7).

They listened, straining their hearing, to catch the words He uttered on the cross. His care for His mother was evident in committing her to John’s care. His suffering and alienation became so visceral as He cried, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” His tender mercies were apparent in asking the Father to forgive His executioners and welcoming the thief crucified with Him into Paradise. Then, that cry, “It is finished,” as He committed His spirit into the Father’s hands, broke their hearts. Their Lord and Friend had died. The One they thought would rescue Israel[...]