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Seeking Christ in Darkness

John 20:1-18 (April 20, 2025. Easter Sunday)

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace be with you from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.

Let’s think for a moment about the times in our own lives when darkness has seemed to prevail. Not just the absence of physical light, but the heavy cloak of grief, the bewildering fog of confusion, the chilling grip of despair. It is in these moments, when the light of our own understanding seems extinguished, that the story of the first Easter morning speaks to us with profound and enduring relevance.

Today’s story begins like this: “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb”. Notice the emphasis on the time – darkness. Visibility is limited.

This literal darkness mirrors the spiritual and emotional darkness that had descended upon the followers of Jesus. The one they believed to be the Messiah (John 8:12), had been crucified, His life seemingly extinguished on Calvary. Their hopes and dreams lay shattered, buried with Him in that cold stone tomb. They were living in a profound “dark night of the soul”.

Yet, amidst this darkness, Mary Magdalene and some women, driven by their love that death itself could not extinguish, make their way to the tomb, carrying spices they had prepared. Their purpose was not one of hopeful anticipation, but of sorrowful duty. They came expecting to find a corpse, their mission centered on the body of Jesus. Resurrection was not in their immediate thoughts, despite Jesus having foretold it. Their grief was so overwhelming, their understanding so limited, that their focus remained fixed on the tragic finality of death.

Beloved, how often do we approach our own “tombs” in life with similar expectations? We find ourselves in the darkness of grief over a lost loved one, the darkness of despair over a broken relationship, the darkness of confusion in the face of an uncertain future, the darkness of fear brought on by a daunting diagnosis. We come expecting the finality of the tomb – the closed door, the immovable obstacle, the irreversible loss. Like Mary, we may be driven by love or duty to approach these dark places, but our hearts are heavy, our vision clouded by sorrow, our hopes seemingly buried. We seek consolation in familiar rituals, in performing what we believe are the last acts in a dead situation.

But what did Mary find when she arrived? “She came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb”. This was the first shock, the unexpected disruption. The stone, a massive barrier, was gone. Their immediate thought was not of a miracle, but of desecration. Mary’s distressed cry to Peter and John reveals her interpretation: “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him”. Her grief-stricken mind jumped to the most plausible explanation within her limited understanding: grave robbery. This wasn’t just the absence of Jesus; it was a violation, an added layer of trauma.

This initial reaction resonates with our own experiences in darkness. When the “stone is rolled away” in our lives – an unexpected change, a sudden turn of events – our first interpretation is often negative, colored by our sorrow and limited perspective. We might think, “Someone has made things worse,” “This can’t be right,” “Where has my security gone?”. We see disruption and immediately assume a negative source and meaning.

But Mary’s story doesn’t end with this initial shock. Her love for Jesus compels her to action. “So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved”. Even in her distress, she sought out others, sharing her disturbing discovery. This act of seeking help, of not remaining isolated in her fear and confusion, is a crucial lesson for us in our own dark times.

Peter and John, upon hearing Mary’s frantic report, “set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together”. Their urgent response underscores the gravity of the news. John, perhaps younger and faster, “outran Peter and reached the tomb first”. He “bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in”. Then Peter, ever the impulsive one, “went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’s head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself”.  (picture)

Notice the details here. The linen wrappings were still there, but the body was gone. And the face cloth was not carelessly discarded, but “rolled up in a place by itself”. This was not the work of hasty grave robbers. The orderliness of the scene hinted at something else entirely – a deliberate, unhurried departure. It is this physical evidence that leads John to “believe”. Though, as the scripture clarifies, “for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead”. His belief was not yet a full understanding of the resurrection, but a conviction that Jesus was not simply stolen. Peter, according to Luke, “saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened”. He was left marveling, pondering the inexplicable.

The disciples then “returned to their homes”. Perhaps they needed time to process, to wrestling with what they had seen. But Mary? “But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb”. Her grief anchored her to that place of loss. Her love would not let her leave. And it is here, in her continued seeking amidst her tears, that she is granted the profound encounter. “As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb, and she saw two angels in white sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet”.

The angels, heavenly messengers in this pivotal moment, ask her, “Woman, why are you weeping?”. Her answer remains the same lament of loss: “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him”. Even in the presence of divine beings, her focus is still on the missing body, her understanding limited by her grief. She is still operating within the framework of death.

But then, the pivotal moment. “When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus”. The one she grieved was right behind her, alive! Yet, she did not recognize Him. Perhaps her tears blurred her vision. Perhaps her expectation of seeing a dead body blinded her to the possibility of a living Lord. Perhaps His resurrected form was different, not immediately recognizable.

Jesus asks her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?”. Still not recognizing Him, she assumes He is the gardener. Her plea reveals her unwavering devotion, even in her mistaken identity: “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away”.

And then, the word that pierces through the darkness of her grief and misunderstanding: “Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!'”. In that single word, spoken with the voice she knew so intimately, recognition flooded her soul. “She turned and said to him in Hebrew, ‘Rabbouni!’ (which means Teacher)”. She knew His voice. Then the darkness was shattered by the light of His presence.

Jesus then gives her a significant instruction: “Do not cling to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father”. This is not a rejection of her affection, but a redirection. He was transitioning to a new phase of His glory, and their relationship would now be different, based on His ascended reality. He then gives her a commission: “But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God'”. Mary Magdalene, the woman who came seeking a dead body in darkness, becomes the first messenger of the resurrection, entrusted with the glorious news for His disciples. “Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, ‘I have seen the Lord,’ and she told them that he had said these things to her”.

Beloved, what can we learn from Mary’s experience about seeking Christ in our own darkness?

Firstly, seek Him even in darkness. Mary went to the tomb “while it was still dark”. Her love and devotion propelled her even when hope seemed absent. In our own dark times, we are called to persist in seeking God, even when we don’t feel like it, even when our prayers feel like they hit a ceiling. We are to maintain spiritual rhythms – reading Scripture, even a verse or two, continuing in prayer, even if it’s a lament, attending to worship, even if we feel numb. These are like Mary bringing the spices – acts of devotion performed regardless of immediate feeling or expected outcome.

Secondly, look beyond the empty tomb. When life presents us with loss or disruption, our first assumption might be negative, like Mary’s thought of grave robbery. But we must intentionally ask God for His perspective and look for signs of His hidden purpose. Like John observing the folded cloth, we should search for small signs of order, grace, or potential good even within the difficult situation.

Thirdly, listen for His personal call. The turning point for Mary wasn’t just seeing Jesus, but hearing Him speak her name: “Mary!”. The Good Shepherd knows His sheep and calls them by name. In our prayer and Scripture reading, we need to cultivate an awareness of His personal voice speaking into our situation.

Fourthly, embrace the ascended Christ. Jesus told Mary, “Do not cling to me…because I have not yet ascended to the Father”. He redirects us from clinging to past experiences to embracing His present, ascended reality, where He ministers to us through the Holy Spirit. We relate to a living, reigning Lord who is active in our lives now.

Fifthly, study the Scriptures. The disciples “did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead”. Scripture provides the essential framework for understanding God’s actions and promises. We need to root our understanding of life’s events, including suffering and hope, in the larger narrative of God’s Word.

Finally, share your testimony. Having encountered the Risen Lord in our own darkness, we are called to go and tell others. Like Mary, our primary testimony is often simple: “I have seen the Lord”. We declare what He has done in our lives, relaying the truths He has shown us.

Beloved, the story of Easter morning reminds us that even in the deepest darkness, the light of Christ’s resurrection can break through. Mary sought Jesus in grief and found Him in glory. We too can seek Him in our darkness, not expecting to find a dead hope, but a living Lord who meets us in our sorrow, calls us by name, and commissions us with His transforming truth. Let us leave this place today, not merely remembering an ancient story, but embracing the living reality of the Risen Christ, ready to seek Him even when the shadows seem long, and eager to share the good news that He is alive! Amen.

Message Prayer: Heavenly Father, as Mary sought Jesus even in the darkness of the tomb, grant us the strength to seek You in our own dark times. Thank You for the light of the resurrection and for calling us by name, as You did Mary. Empower us to understand Your Word and boldly share the good news: Christ is risen! In the name of Jesus, the Risen Lord, we pray. Amen.