Before The Stone Was Rolled Away
He Rose In Power. Quietly. Before The World Ever Knew.
I want to return, just once more, to the stillness.
I have been trying to place myself in every moment of this week, to bear witness to each individual whose life was touched by Jesus, and most importantly to every step Jesus took in obedience.
So I want to linger in that quiet moment, before the glory broke through.
Before angels appeared.
Before linen cloths were folded.
Before Mary heard her name.
Before the stone was rolled away.
Because something holy happened in the dark.
The offering had been made.
The Lamb had been slain.
The veil had torn… But the tomb was still sealed.
And I don’t want to simply pass over this moment. It would be too easy to simply jump ahead to the victory.
I want to remember that for those who loved Him, those who had followed, hoped and believed, it felt like the end.
I want to spend time between the lines and verses and reflect on the things that were not written.
The Sabbath had come.
And with it… silence.
The kind of silence that only comes after heartbreak.
The kind of quiet where hope feels too painful to hold.
This would be a Sabbath like none other.
And yet… we know, because we have the benefit of reading the whole story that Hope wasn’t gone.
It was just resting.
Because Jesus was not done.
This is Article 7 in a 7-part series on the last week of Jesus’ life. If you missed the lead-in article that is the background to this reflection, you can read it here:
The Unbearable Weight of Perfection: Wrestling with Jesus' Humanity
Here are the links to the previous articles in the series:
1 - Welcomed With Palms, Left with Silence
2 - Righteous Fire in a Holy Place
3 - The Table, The Garden and The Kiss
5 - The Sky Went Dark When He Bowed His Head
6 - The Veil Was Torn, The Earth Trembled, and the Grave Was Silent
The Silence of the Sabbath
The sun had set. The crowd had dispersed.
And Sabbath had begun.
The burial was complete. The stone was sealed.
And now… nothing.
No more voices shouting.
No more soldiers mocking.
No more nails.
No more blood.
No more breath.
Just stillness.
Normally, the Sabbath was a day of joy. A holy day.
Families would gather, candles would be lit, prayers would rise like incense.
Bread and wine, songs and Scripture. Every detail was designed to remind the people of God’s faithfulness.
Work would cease. Fires would not be lit. No journeys would be taken. No burdens carried.
It was a day for rest. For worship. For delight.
To remind God’s people that God is good and he delights to restore his people.
When The Sabbath Felt Hollow
I wonder what this Sabbath felt like.
For Mary, his mother with a broken heart.
For John, one of Jesus’ closest confidantes.
For Peter, crushed by shame, wondering if he could have done anything differently.
For the others, scattered in grief and disbelief.
They had followed Him. Believed Him.
Watched Him raise the dead, calm storms, forgive sin.
And now… He was gone.
What it was like to try and keep the Sabbath…
When the very men entrusted with God’s law had just murdered God’s Son.
The ones who wore holy garments, recited holy prayers, stood in holy places…
They had plotted. They had lied.
They had condemned the Innocent One.
And now, these religious hypocrites—cowardly men who had twisted justice to accomplish murder—were keeping Sabbath.
Lighting candles, reciting blessings, almost acting as though nothing had happened.
I wonder… Did they really feel peace? Vindicated? Or did something gnaw at their conscience?
And what about Jesus’ followers… ?
How do you go to the synagogue when the ones meant to uphold the law just broke it to crucify the very One who fulfilled it?
It must have been disorienting to watch the “leaders” of your faith kill the Author of your faith.
To see the ones who claimed to speak for God…
Silence the One who was God’s Word made flesh.
And yet the Sabbath came. As it always did.
But this time everything had changed.
And, truthfully, we don’t get many verses about this Sabbath.
Some of this is just me processing, wondering…
A few hints. But mostly we’re left with silence.
And that, I think, is part of the message.
It’s good for me to pause and be reminded that God does some of His most holy work in silence.
How many times have I knelt in prayer wanting anything other than silence?
And so, I want to sit in that space too. We live in a world that demands instant gratification.
But I want to let stillness do its sacred work.
He Descended
“He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit,
in which also He went and made proclamation to the spirits in prison…”
—1 Peter 3:18–19
We’ve now entered sacred ground. A portion of Scripture spoken only in glimpses.
A place of awe. A place of mystery.
But what we do know is this:
Jesus did not lie silent in the tomb.
His body rested, wrapped in linen.
But His spirit descended.
Not to suffer.
Not to be punished.
That work was finished.
He descended in victory.
To proclaim.
To shatter the silence beneath the earth with a thunderous truth:
It is finished.
What Does It Mean That He Descended?
This brief span of time—between His death and resurrection—has been referenced by the Church for centuries.
“He descended into hell,” says the Apostles’ Creed.
Not to endure it. But to declare victory over it.
Paul echoes it in Ephesians 4:9:
“Now this expression, ‘He ascended,’ what does it mean except that He also had descended into the lower parts of the earth?”
There’s debate, yes. And we tread gently.
But it seems Jesus descended into Sheol—the realm of the dead.
A Brief Word on Sheol
Sheol (Hebrew) or Hades (Greek) was understood in ancient Jewish belief as the shadowy realm of the dead (Psalm 16:10; Job 14:13).
Not necessarily a place of fire or torment, but a place of separation.
A place of waiting.
The KJV often translates it as “hell” or “grave.”
Modern translations tend to distinguish it more clearly.
And it was into that place, the realm of death, that Jesus went.
Not as a victim. But as a Conqueror.
He Came With Purpose
To those who had died in faith, still waiting for the fullness of God’s promise…
He came as the Fulfillment.
To those who had died in rebellion, sealed in judgment…
He came as the Just Judge.
And to every power, every authority beneath the earth…
He came as the Risen King.
“O death, where is your sting?
O grave, where is your victory?” —1 Corinthians 15:55
I don’t pretend to know how this happened.
Whether it was with a word, or a look, or just His presence.
But death had no answer.
Because the One it thought it had swallowed…
Had come to proclaim what the prophets had long foretold: Victory through the blood of the Lamb.
Before the Others Came
The women came at dawn, but I wonder… (and this is just me speculating)
Did Jesus rise just moments before they arrived? Or was it longer?
Was the tomb empty while darkness still lingered?
We’re not told the exact moment. Only that it was “the third day”, and that “very early in the morning” the women came (Luke 24:1; Mark 16:2).
But something in me wonders if He had already risen, well before the stone was rolled away.
I don’t believe he needed the stone rolled away, once he was in his resurrected body.
But it was rolled away because we needed it moved to see.
And, Jesus didn’t make a spectacle. He didn’t burst forth in fire or thunder.
Jesus, the one who holds all the power of Heaven and Earth, doesn’t need to impress.
The Lamb who had been slain, simply stood. Risen in quiet power.
And maybe, just maybe, before anyone arrived—before the angel descended, before the guards shook with fear, before the sun began to rise…
Jesus stepped out into the garden.
Free.
Victorious.
Resurrected.
Did He look up at the stars He had once set in motion?
Did He smile at the fig tree that hadn’t yet seen the dawn?
There’s no verse for that part. Only sacred wondering.
But I believe He lingered. Not because He needed to.
But because He could.
Because death no longer had a claim on Him.
And time itself bowed in reverence.
The Third Day — Resurrection Morning
“But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb…” —Luke 24:1
It was still dark. Early dawn. Perhaps the light just peeking up on the horizon.
The third day of Jesus being in the tomb.
The first day of the week.
Jesus had said He would rise on the third day.
And now… that day had come.
We don’t know the exact moment.
But at some point between the silence of night and the steps of women coming with spices…
Jesus rose.
He didn’t need the stone to be rolled away to leave the tomb.
He had already conquered death.
But the stone was rolled back, not to let Him out, but to let us in.
The Earthquake and the Angel
“And behold, a severe earthquake had occurred, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled away the stone and sat upon it.” —Matthew 28:2
The earth shook again.
Not like the earthquake on Friday.
This one was not in grief—this was in glory.
The angel rolled the stone away and sat on it.
“His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing as white as snow. The guards shook for fear of him and became like dead men.” —Matthew 28:3–4
Roman guards, trained killers, paralyzed in terror.
They had been stationed to stop a theft.
But no sword could hold back the King of Glory.
This looks so feeble when compared to the power of Heaven.
The Women Arrive
“Now after the Sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to look at the tomb.” —Matthew 28:1
“They came bringing the spices which they had prepared.” —Luke 24:1
“Very early on the first day of the week, they came to the tomb when the sun had risen.” —Mark 16:2
The Sabbath was over.
And before the city even stirred, these women—Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, Salome, and others—gathered what they had prepared.
The would have brought spices, ointments, linen and possibly jars of oil.
The last act of love they could offer to Jesus by caring for his body.
We don’t know how long they walked, but the journey from where they were staying to the tomb could have taken twenty, maybe thirty minutes. Perhaps more, depending on where they had gathered.
It was early. Some say before sunrise. Others just after.
But it was quiet.
And dark when they set out. And let’s not forget, it was likely dangerous as well.
These were women walking through the outskirts of Jerusalem, along winding paths, toward a Roman-sealed tomb, guarded by soldiers.
But love has a way of pushing past fear.
And even in their grief, they came.
They came not expecting resurrection.
They came expecting a body.
They came with questions on their lips:
“Who will roll away the stone for us?” —Mark 16:3
They didn’t know how they’d get in.
But still, they walked.
And I imagine every step was heavy.
Not just with grief, but with the weight of what they had seen.
The cross. The silence. The final breath.
And yet… even with their broken hearts and broken hopes…
They came anyway.
The Empty Tomb
“Looking up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away, although it was extremely large.” —Mark 16:4
“And entering the tomb, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.” —Luke 24:3
The first surprise was the stone.
Massive. Heavy.
Set in place by Roman authority.
Definitely too large for any of them to move.
But it was already rolled back.
According to John’s Gospel, when Mary Magdalene saw the stone rolled away, her mind didn’t jump to resurrection, it first leapt to fear.
Afraid that someone had stolen Jesus’ body.
So Mary Magdalene, the one who had been delivered from 7 demons, turned and ran.
She was running to find Peter and John, to tell them the tomb was empty.
“They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid Him!” —John 20:2
She didn’t yet know it was good news.
She would return later.
And when she did… She would become the very first to see Him.
But for now, she ran.
The Angel Speaks
And when the others stepped in, with hushed reverence…
Jesus’ body was not there.
They were expecting linen. Silence. Stillness.
Instead…
They saw angels.
One sitting. One standing.
One shining like lightning.
One with the voice of heaven itself.
And in that moment of fear and awe, they heard the most unexpected words:
“Why do you seek the living One among the dead?
He is not here, but He has risen.
Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee…” —Luke 24:5–6“But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid; for I know that you are looking for Jesus who has been crucified.
He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said. Come, see the place where He was lying.’”
—Matthew 28:5–6
The words are gentle. Reassuring. Stunning.
And unlike the soldiers who were there to oppose Jesus, these women were here to honor them, and an Angel from heaven gave them a profoundly powerful and glorious experience.
Let’s pause here.
They came with grief… and were met with glory.
They came with sorrow… and were greeted by light.
They came to anoint a body… but found that the One they loved had broken the power of the grave.
They came to mourn… and instead became the first witnesses to resurrection.
I don’t think words could capture the overwhelming feelings that would have risen up in them.
What could you do but cry for joy.
The First Commission
“Go quickly and tell His disciples that He has risen from the dead; and behold, He is going ahead of you to Galilee—there you will see Him.”
—Matthew 28:7
Go. Tell.
These grieving women had become the first messengers of resurrection.
They had come to honor a body.
They left to declare a victory.
Peter and John Run to the Tomb
“So Peter and the other disciple went forth, and they were going to the tomb.” —John 20:3
When Mary Magdalene came running, breathless and panicked, saying, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid Him,” Peter and John didn’t hesitate.
They ran.
Not just walked. Not just questioned. They ran.
Grief still fresh. Hope barely alive. But something about Mary’s words stirred them into action.
John outran Peter. He got there first.
“And stooping and looking in, he saw the linen wrappings lying there; but he did not go in.” —John 20:5
Then came Peter, true to form, never one to hesitate. He rushed into the tomb.
“And he saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the face-cloth which had been on His head, not lying with the linen wrappings, but folded up in a place by itself.” —John 20:6–7
What he saw must have been staggering.
This wasn’t chaos. This wasn’t a robbery.
The linens weren’t strewn about in panic.
The wrappings were intact—undisturbed. The face cloth, folded separately.
This was… intentional. It was ordered, and peaceful.
Then John entered too.
“So the other disciple who had first come to the tomb also entered then, and he saw and believed.” —John 20:8
He believed something had happened. Something beyond natural explanation.
But still…
“For as yet they did not understand the Scripture, that He must rise from the dead.” —John 20:9
They didn’t yet grasp the full meaning.
Perhaps they had thought the resurrection of the dead would come at a future time, and Jesus would lead the way.
And then the verse that almost makes me ache:
“So the disciples went away again to their own homes.” —John 20:10
They left.
Quiet. Awestruck. Still unsure what it all meant.
A Quiet Reflection
Can I pause here for a moment?
I’ve been wondering something as I write this.
Why didn’t the disciples see angels?
It was the women who came first. Who came not to analyze, but to anoint.
Not to solve a mystery, but to mourn and honor.
And heaven met them there with the presence of Angels.
But the disciples?
They came running, eager and breathless when they heard about the stone and empty tomb.
But no angel greeted them.
Only silence. Perfectly folded linen. And a tomb that no longer held what they feared it would.
Maybe this is why:
The women came to serve.
The men came to see.
But God always honors those who come in love.
I don’t mean that as a criticism. I’m just making a quiet observation, particularly for my own learning.
Because even the disciples would come to believe.
But it started in the quiet. With a whisper, not a blaze.
And maybe, had they seen Angels, they might have responded differently.
Perhaps ego might have crept in?
And isn’t it beautiful…
To see how women and men may worship differently,
But in ways that echo each other in depth and devotion?
Not better. Not lesser. But complementary.
So here’s something I want to remember:
Not every holy moment comes with thunder.
Sometimes, the presence of God speaks softly…
Like a folded cloth. A stillness. A moment of awe.
Maybe the disciples needed to process it in silence, so that when they did share the news, it would come not from astonishment…
But from belief.
Mary Magdalene Lingers
Peter and John had come and gone. They saw the linen cloths. They saw the emptiness. But they didn’t stay.
Mary did.
She had run ahead in panic, afraid someone had taken the body.
But now… she remained.
Weeping.
“But Mary was standing outside the tomb, weeping; and so, as she wept, she stooped to look into the tomb.”
—John 20:11
She had loved Jesus deeply.
Scripture tells us she had been delivered from seven demons (Luke 8:2).
We’re not told exactly what that looked like. But we know what it meant. Whatever her story had been before, Jesus had changed everything.
He had given her dignity. Healing. A new beginning.
He had called her by name when others called her unclean. He saw her when others turned away.
She had followed Him not out of religion, but because He had given her life back.
A future without Jesus? What would that even mean for her?
He was her hope. Her wholeness. Her center.
And I believe this is why she couldn’t leave.
She couldn’t bear the thought of not having Jesus in her life.
She had lost everything once, and then she found Him. She wasn’t ready to lose Him again.
So now, here she stood at the edge of grief… and glory.
He Speaks Her Name
She looked in again—and this time, she saw angels.
“And she saw two angels in white sitting, one at the head and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been lying. And they said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’”
—John 20:12–13
She answers them, still thinking someone had taken Him.
“Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they put Him.”
—John 20:13
Then she turns. Someone is standing behind her.
She doesn’t recognize Him.
Maybe because her eyes are swollen. Maybe because she’s not expecting to see someone alive.
Maybe because Jesus, now glorified, has veiled His identity just for a moment.
“Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?’
Thinking that He was the gardener, she said to Him,
‘Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you put Him, and I will take Him away.’”
—John 20:15
And then, He speaks her name.
“Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’”
—John 20:16
Just one word.
But it breaks through the fog.
It cuts through the grief.
It floods her with recognition.
“She turned and said to Him in Hebrew, ‘Rabboni!’ (which means Teacher).”
—John 20:16
He’s alive.
The One she couldn’t bear to lose, Had found her first.
She didn’t find Jesus.
Jesus revealed Himself.
Not to the crowd.
Not to the priests.
Not even to the disciples.
To her, Mary Magdalene.
To the one whose life He had redeemed.
To the one who came in love.
To the one who stayed.
She knew that voice. the one who had called her out of darkness. The one who had spoken life over her.
She had come expecting to anoint the dead.
And instead… she was the first to see the Risen Lord.
Closing Thoughts
There’s so much more that follows the resurrection.
He appears again.
He walks with His disciples.
He reveals His wounds.
He breaks bread.
And I can’t wait to walk with those stories, step by step.
But I want to pause here.
Because this one moment, Mary’s encounter at the tomb, feels like the purest glimpse of the Gospel.
Love that stays.
A heart that breaks.
A Savior who speaks her name.
This is the Jesus I want people to know.
This is the Gospel I want to keep telling.
And so, while I’m excited for what’s next,
I wanted this moment to stand on its own.
Let it linger.
Let it breathe.
Let it echo.
Coming Next
In the next article, we’ll pick up with those who saw Him next.
The other women.
The two on the road to Emmaus.
The disciples locked in fear.
Doubting Thomas.
And Jesus, full of gentleness and glory, showing them what love looks like—again and again.
But for now, we rest in this moment.
With Mary.
In the garden.
Where everything changed.
A Personal Note
To those of you who’ve followed this 7-part journey—thank you. Truly.
I say from the bottom of my heart, because that’s where I’ve been writing from, and I feel utterly poured out.
When I began this Easter series, I didn’t realize just how deep it would go.
How many hours it would take.
How much it would cost me. Not financially, but emotionally, spiritually, and even in time away from my little family.
These articles have been a labor of love.
They’ve been full of tears.
Full of awe.
And full of worship.
I’ve walked alongside Jesus, His disciples, and those He touched in His final days—trying to feel what they felt.
And now, my relationship with Jesus is deeper than it’s ever been.
So I hope—genuinely—that if you’ve walked alongside me, it’s helped you love Him more too.
As we move forward, I’ll be slowing the pace.
Probably one article per week, maybe two.
But the storytelling won’t stop.
I plan to keep writing,
Keep reflecting,
Keep learning—alongside you.
If this series has meant something to you, would you consider leaving a comment below?
I would love to hear what part resonated most.
And if you know someone who would benefit from seeing Jesus through fresh eyes—
Would you consider sharing this series with them?
They don’t need a Substack account to read—just the link.
Lastly—please know:
My writing will never be behind a paywall.
But if you feel moved, and you have the means to support this work—I would be honored by your pledge.
Not out of obligation.
Only out of appreciation.
Thank you for walking this sacred road with me. 🙏
- Jonathan
Thank you Jonathan, I'm walking with you.
I've often thought of Joseph through the years. A secret disciple who begged for the body of Jesus. No longer a secret, his life would never be the same. Buried him in his own new tomb. With Nicodemus beside him they stepped forward at a vital time. No longer a secret who they loved. The disciples scattered, but they stepped forward. I am so thankful.
Thank you for pouring out, Jonathan! I have loved traveling this journey this week in a way I never have before. No words to express the deeper thankfulness and praise of gratitude in my heart.♥️ 🎶