The women had cried all Sabbath. We all had. But Mary—she wouldn’t leave the edge of the courtyard. Even after they placed the stone across the tomb, she sat there like her heart had shut down with the world.
My name is Tirzah. I used to follow Jesus from the edges of the crowd, helping other women serve meals or wash feet when the road got dusty. I had once believed He’d change everything. But after Friday…I wasn’t sure what I believed anymore.
When I found Mary early that morning before sunrise, her hands trembled as she packed the burial spices. “You don’t have to come,” she said. “I need to do this.”
I nodded. I needed something, too—anything that would make the silence in my chest stop echoing.
The path to the tomb was cold and silent except for our footsteps. Jerusalem still slept, wrapped in shadows. Roman guards had been stationed at the tomb—big, armored men ordered to make sure no one touched Jesus’ body. I’d heard some of them bragging in the market the day before. “King of the Jews,” one of them had sneered. “Dead like the rest.”
That phrase kept ringing in my head. Hope, dead like the rest.
Then, the ground moved.
It wasn’t like an ordinary quake, the kind that makes dishes rattle. No—this shook our bones. We dropped to our knees as a blinding flash tore across the horizon. For a moment, I thought lightning had struck the earth. Then I saw Him—a man glowing like fire and snow. An angel.
I couldn’t breathe.
The soldiers collapsed—flat on their faces, frozen like stones themselves. One of them actually whimpered before passing out cold.
But the angel wasn't looking at them. He looked at us…and smiled.
“Do not be afraid,” he said. His voice was thunder and sunrise all at once. “You’re looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He isn’t here. He has risen, just as He said.”
Mary grabbed my hand so hard I winced. I didn’t care. My eyes filled with tears, disbelief and wonder crashing into each other inside me.
The angel pointed. The stone had rolled away—and the tomb was empty.
The burial cloth lay folded.
He was gone.
He had won.
“Go quickly,” the angel said, “and tell His disciples. He’s going ahead of you into Galilee. You’ll see Him there.”
We didn’t run. We flew.
Down the hill, over the rocks, through the olive trees.
I laughed and cried at once. The wind screamed in our ears, but nothing could drown out the explosion in my heart. He did it. He did what no one else could do—He crushed death.
Then, suddenly, He was there.
Right there on the path.
Jesus.
Alive.
His eyes were the same—deep and kind, like they held the whole ocean. “Greetings,” He said simply.
Mary dropped to her knees. I followed—hands to the dirt, tears pouring. We touched His feet just to be sure we weren’t dreaming.
“Don’t be afraid,” He said again. “Go. Tell my brothers to meet me in Galilee.”
He let us touch the proof that sin didn’t win. And in that moment, I knew: this was bigger than miracles, bigger than crowds and parables and meals shared on hillsides.
He didn’t just forgive sins. He defeated the shame that buried us.
Back then, I was just a girl who used to walk the edges.
Now? I will never walk in shadows again.
Because that morning, the tomb was empty—and hope walked with us.
The women had cried all Sabbath. We all had. But Mary—she wouldn’t leave the edge of the courtyard. Even after they placed the stone across the tomb, she sat there like her heart had shut down with the world.
My name is Tirzah. I used to follow Jesus from the edges of the crowd, helping other women serve meals or wash feet when the road got dusty. I had once believed He’d change everything. But after Friday…I wasn’t sure what I believed anymore.
When I found Mary early that morning before sunrise, her hands trembled as she packed the burial spices. “You don’t have to come,” she said. “I need to do this.”
I nodded. I needed something, too—anything that would make the silence in my chest stop echoing.
The path to the tomb was cold and silent except for our footsteps. Jerusalem still slept, wrapped in shadows. Roman guards had been stationed at the tomb—big, armored men ordered to make sure no one touched Jesus’ body. I’d heard some of them bragging in the market the day before. “King of the Jews,” one of them had sneered. “Dead like the rest.”
That phrase kept ringing in my head. Hope, dead like the rest.
Then, the ground moved.
It wasn’t like an ordinary quake, the kind that makes dishes rattle. No—this shook our bones. We dropped to our knees as a blinding flash tore across the horizon. For a moment, I thought lightning had struck the earth. Then I saw Him—a man glowing like fire and snow. An angel.
I couldn’t breathe.
The soldiers collapsed—flat on their faces, frozen like stones themselves. One of them actually whimpered before passing out cold.
But the angel wasn't looking at them. He looked at us…and smiled.
“Do not be afraid,” he said. His voice was thunder and sunrise all at once. “You’re looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He isn’t here. He has risen, just as He said.”
Mary grabbed my hand so hard I winced. I didn’t care. My eyes filled with tears, disbelief and wonder crashing into each other inside me.
The angel pointed. The stone had rolled away—and the tomb was empty.
The burial cloth lay folded.
He was gone.
He had won.
“Go quickly,” the angel said, “and tell His disciples. He’s going ahead of you into Galilee. You’ll see Him there.”
We didn’t run. We flew.
Down the hill, over the rocks, through the olive trees.
I laughed and cried at once. The wind screamed in our ears, but nothing could drown out the explosion in my heart. He did it. He did what no one else could do—He crushed death.
Then, suddenly, He was there.
Right there on the path.
Jesus.
Alive.
His eyes were the same—deep and kind, like they held the whole ocean. “Greetings,” He said simply.
Mary dropped to her knees. I followed—hands to the dirt, tears pouring. We touched His feet just to be sure we weren’t dreaming.
“Don’t be afraid,” He said again. “Go. Tell my brothers to meet me in Galilee.”
He let us touch the proof that sin didn’t win. And in that moment, I knew: this was bigger than miracles, bigger than crowds and parables and meals shared on hillsides.
He didn’t just forgive sins. He defeated the shame that buried us.
Back then, I was just a girl who used to walk the edges.
Now? I will never walk in shadows again.
Because that morning, the tomb was empty—and hope walked with us.
