The Beginning

Introduction

You know exactly how those disciples felt the day after Jesus’ death. You know what they felt inside. Numbness, disbelief, denial. Most of us have experienced the death of a loved one. We know the hollowness, loneliness, isolation, sense of loss, and grief that accompanies such a time in our lives. Those disciples, just like us, felt all that. No sense of direction, loss of reason to push on, fear of the future. Hope is gone; joy has been turned into sadness. Only a week ago were they crying out “God save the king” and now the king is dead. The arguments about greatness seem so petty now. Greatness means nothing when there is no kingdom. But give the disciples credit—they may have scattered on Friday, but on Sunday they are together.

At least they share their grief with one another. In quiet togetherness, in isolated union they are together. Each one is deep in his own thoughts. There is no celebration. There is only the solemn community of people who feel defeated, lost, disappointed, guilty, and dejected. Let’s join them in that room. There is a heaviness in that room. The air is thick with the smell of lost hope. There are no jokes to be told. No one really knows what to say. All they have are memories. Memories of failure in a garden, a cross, and a tomb. Memories of death. Death not only of their friend, but death of their hopes and dreams. And that is all that is in that room. Death.

Mary’s Story

John relates a totally different story from the other accounts. Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb. When she arrives she finds that the tomb is open. She returns to tell Peter and John that Jesus’ body is gone. They immediately run for the tomb. Peter and John enter the tomb. Inside they see the burial strips. No body. Just the strips neatly folded. Even the head covering is neatly folded, separated from the burial strips. John tells us that he saw and believed. This is not a statement of pride but of conviction. But he must not have shared his conviction. For in the next scene Mary has returned to the tomb. She is weeping, confused, distraught, uncertain. Not only has Jesus died, but now someone has stolen his body.

Jesus appears to her. In her confusion, she doesn’t recognize him. She wants Jesus’ body and simply wants this gardener to tell her where he has put Jesus’ body. Then Jesus speaks to her, and in a single word she knows. “Mary.” With all the tenderness and compassion of one who wants to be gentle with a follower, Jesus utters her name. And she will never be the same. “I have seen him,” she yells to the disciples. She has seen him who was dead but is now alive. He’s alive; he’s alive.

The disciples seem unconvinced by Mary’s story. Perhaps there is hope. Perhaps there is a willingness to listen. But there is more uncertainty. You can appreciate their doubt. You can appreciate their hesitancy to believe. After all, they saw him die. Don’t remind them of Lazarus or the boy from Nain. Jesus was the one who raised those from the dead. And Jesus was dead. At least that is what their eyes told them.

Back in that room, it is evening of the first day of the week. The door is locked. Afraid that their lives may end in the same way as Jesus’s had, they want to keep the Jews outside. And through that locked door Jesus comes into the room. Surprised? You bet. Afraid? Wouldn’t you be. The first thing are the words “Peace be with you.” This is a typical Jewish greeting, but in this case it is filled with significance. There is no rebuke. There are no guilt-inducing statements. There is instead the call of peace. Jesus isn’t mad. He gives peace and calm.

Jesus shows them the scars of battle. He shows them where Satan used some soldiers to drive those nails and to open up his side with a spear. This night is filled with joy. Their friend, their mentor, their teacher is alive. All the despair is gone. All the confusion has been replaced with joy. There is a sense of relief. There is a sense of renewal. But Jesus doesn’t appear just to let them know that the war has been won. The battle continues, although his presence fully reveals the outcome. Now in verse 21, Jesus sends them out. The mission is not over. It continues. This is the beginning, not the end.

This is the beginning of a new focus. The disciples had been searching for prominence. Now Jesus refocuses their attention on the real mission. Just as he was sent from God, now he sends them to continue his mission. All that is left for Jesus is to return to the Father. The disciples will now carry on. Their mission is now beginning. But now their mission has a power not known before. Their message now includes a risen Savior.

Thomas, the twin (that is what Didymus means), was not in the room that resurrection evening. The others tell him what they have seen. He refuses to believe. Instead, he vows that he will never believe unless he can touch the scars himself. One week later he gets his opportunity. The scene is very similar to the previous week. Through locked doors Jesus appears. And he immediately turns his attention to Thomas. “Go ahead, Thomas, touch the scars. Stop doubting and believe.”

What would you have done? Would you have scoffed? Laughed? Looked around and said this was a cruel joke? What would you do now? Separated by 2000 years, the resurrection is something we read about. But it also verifies the importance of the cross. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15 that if the resurrection did not happen, then we are to be pitied for believing in Jesus. Without the resurrection, we are just stupid, easily deceived people. We are led around like a fish on a hook, believing not just a bunch of lies, but fantasies with no objective truth to back them.

Lessons

So what are we to learn from the garden of resurrection? First, let’s talk about confession for just a moment. The truth is that, like Thomas, we have to decide what we are going to do with Jesus. Jesus hasn’t appeared to us directly. He appeared to others. But they have recorded what they saw. Do we believe? Not just mental assent, but do we believe so that it affects how we live and how we talk and how we deal with others. Some of us are like Calvin in the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes. Calvin is the little boy and Hobbes is his stuffed tiger that comes to life when they talk. Calvin says to Hobbes, “I feel bad that I called Susie names and hurt her feelings. I’m sorry I did it.” “Maybe you should apologize to her,” Hobbes suggests. Calvin ponders this for a moment and then replies, “I keep hoping there’s a less obvious solution.”

In other words, for many of us confession doesn’t mean much. But by its very nature, a confession is an agreement with someone that what they are saying about you is true. When we confess our sins, we agree with God that we have done wrong. When we confess that Jesus is Lord, we are agreeing with God that Jesus is the one who is to run our life.

What will you do? Thomas confessed. “My Lord and my God.” The one I will follow and the one who is God in the flesh. If Thomas’ confession is accurate, then Jesus is God and deserves to be followed. What is your confession? “My Lord and my God” except when I want to do something differently?

John tells us that only with faith in Jesus may we have life. Real living comes only through Christ. Our confession is not just a bunch of words but a pledge of loyalty and determination to follow. John wrote his gospel so that all who read it will, like Thomas, come to a time of confession. The Lord has risen from the dead; the mission has been given; the confession needs to be said; this is just the beginning.

Second, we need to understand something about the idea of resurrection power. Turn to Ephesians 1:15-23. This is a prayer that flows from the rehearsal of the spiritual blessings that we enjoy in Jesus. Paul prays that these readers will know God better in verse 17. Paul is praying for an intimacy with God which will lead to three things: the hope of their calling, the wealth of God’s inheritance, and the power of God.

The hope has to do with our past. We have been called into salvation, and he prays that the readers will recognize the hope that they possess, which results in anticipated expectation of being with God.

The wealth of his inheritance has to do with the future. It is God’s inheritance, not ours, which is the focus. We are God’s inheritance, and Paul prays that these readers will know that their future is secure. God is going to claim his inheritance.

The power has to do with the present. This power is directed toward us. This power is for us. It is a power that is available for us. Paul heaps up four different words for power in this sentence: “That power is like the working of his mighty strength…” The point is that this power is not just available but active. Paul goes on to say that the power is the same power that God exerted in raising Jesus from the dead. This power not only resurrected Jesus from the dead, never to die again, but brought about Jesus’s complete rulership over all things now and in the future—including the church. Jesus is the head of the church. This power is presently active and available for God’s people.

So what does that mean? There is absolutely nothing which can take away God’s power which is available to us. This power has already overcome all that is evil in this world. No ruler, authority, power, or dominion can overcome this power. Paul uses these words to denote spiritually evil beings (see 6:12). Nothing and no one can take away this power. The same power which God used to raise Jesus from the dead has been given to us—not only so that death cannot win, but so that no evil thing can harm us. But what does this power look like and how does it work? Fair questions.

Discouraged? We have God’s power in our lives. Uncertain about the future? We have God’s power at work in our lives. Treated unfairly? God’s power is ours. Overwhelmed? God’s power is in our lives. Frustrated? Use God’s power. Feel unappreciated? God’s power sustains us. Defeated? God’s power lifts us up. We have the same power as the one who sits at God’s right hand. Jesus is head of the church, and we are the church. We are filled with him, and his power fills us in every way.

This is not to say that we don’t get discouraged or feel uncertain, but it is to say that we do not allow the power to sit idle. We use it to bring certain victory.

How do I know this? Look at Ephesians 2:6. God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms. We have not yet been resurrected, but we live with the present reality. It is a done deal.

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