The resurrection isn’t just something that happened in history but is something that’s still happening today. When Jesus stepped out of that tomb, he didn’t throw a parade. He didn’t return to the crowds or confront his accusers. Instead, He did what he’s always done best: he came close, quietly, personally, and powerfully. He went straight to the ones who were hurting, doubting, hiding … straight to the ones who thought they were disqualified from his acceptance, his attention, his grace.
He still does the same today. Jesus moves toward us—patiently, tenderly, without hesitation—right in the middle of our confusion, our fear, our grief, and even our shame. He doesn’t flinch at our mess or recoil from our questions. Instead, he draws near with a love that is both strong and gentle, both holy and deeply personal. That’s the kind of Savior he is. That’s the kind of love he still offers—unearned, unwavering, and always right on time.
So as we reflect on that first Easter morning, here are three soul-steadying truths that still hold power today.
1. Jesus Meets Us in Our Pain with Tenderness
Grief has a way of narrowing our world. It clouds our vision, numbs our senses, and can make even the clearest truth hard to see. Mary Magdalene stood outside the tomb, tears blurring her eyes, her heart so heavy with sorrow that she couldn’t recognize the risen Jesus—though he was standing just steps away.
That’s what pain does. It disorients us. It makes it hard to imagine that healing is possible or that joy could ever return. But notice what Jesus didn’t do: He didn’t correct her or tell her to pull it together. He didn’t offer a sermon. He simply said her name—”Mary.” And in that moment of tender familiarity, the fog lifted. Her eyes opened. Her heart awakened to hope.
Jesus meets us like that, too. He comes quietly, without pressure or performance. He doesn’t rush us through sorrow or demand strength we don’t have. He meets us right where we are—with a voice that’s personal, familiar, and full of grace.
If you’re walking through grief right now—whether from loss, disappointment, or a hope deferred—Jesus is near. He knows how to find you in the fog. He knows your name. And he knows exactly how to speak to your heart.
2. Jesus Invites Our Doubts Without Shame
Thomas had questions—honest, aching, deeply human questions—and he wasn’t willing to settle for secondhand faith or borrowed conviction. He needed to see for himself, to touch the evidence with his own hands. Some might call that doubt. But Jesus didn’t see it as weakness. He saw it as a moment worth showing up for.
When Jesus appeared again, he went straight to Thomas—not to shame him, but to meet him. He didn’t scold him for not believing sooner. He didn’t say, “You should know better.” Instead, he simply extended his hands and said, “Come close. Touch the scars. See for yourself.”
It’s easy to think that faith means having all the answers or never wrestling with uncertainty. But what if the opposite is true? What if real faith isn’t the absence of questions but the courage to bring them to Jesus?
Jesus welcomes the doubter. He honors the seeker. He makes room for those who are still sorting it out. So if you’re struggling to believe right now—if your heart is full of questions or your trust has taken a hit—you’re not disqualified. You’re exactly the kind of person Jesus draws near to.
3. Jesus Restores Our Failures with Grace
Peter had failed, and he felt it deep in his bones. The shame of denying Jesus not once, but three times, weighed heavy on him. So he did what many of us do when we feel like we’ve messed everything up—he went backward. Back to what was familiar. Back to fishing. It’s human instinct: when we don’t know how to move forward, we retreat to the last place we felt safe or sure.
But Jesus didn’t leave him there.
He came looking for Peter—not with a lecture, but with breakfast. On the shore that morning, Jesus lit a fire, prepared a meal, and asked one simple, soul-piercing question: “Do you love Me?” He asked it three times—not to rub salt in the wound, but to rewrite the story. One question for every denial. One opportunity for every regret. It was a conversation not of condemnation but of restoration.
Jesus doesn’t pretend our failures didn’t happen. He doesn’t erase our past; he redeems it. He takes our lowest moments and weaves them into a story of grace, a story that says, “You’re not done. You’re not disqualified. Come sit with me.”
If you’re carrying shame today—if there’s a part of your story you think puts you on the outside—hear this: Jesus is already on the shore. He’s not waiting for you to fix yourself. He’s simply asking you to come close. To answer his question. And to trust that your story isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
The Resurrection Is Personal
These stories aren’t just about Mary, Thomas, and Peter. They’re about us.
Jesus meets us in our pain.
He welcomes our doubts.
He restores us in our failure.
This is what resurrection looks like. Not just a stone rolled away, but hearts made whole. Not just a moment in history, but a movement of hope that continues today.
As you head into this week, I want to leave you with a simple invitation—three ways you can lean into the resurrection story in your own life:
First, be honest with God. Tell him where it hurts. Talk to him about your questions, your fears, even your regrets. He already knows, and he’s not nervous about any of it. You don’t have to clean things up first—just come as you are.
Second, slow down enough to hear him. You may not hear him call your name out loud like Mary did, but the Holy Spirit still speaks—through Scripture, through a quiet moment in worship, through a conversation you didn’t see coming. Make some space this week to pay attention.
And third, respond. When you sense Jesus drawing near—don’t rush past it. Don’t shrug it off. That stirring in your heart, that word of encouragement, that nudge to pray or forgive or trust again—that’s him. Lean in.
Because the resurrection isn’t just something Jesus did. It’s something he’s doing—right now. He’s still calling names. Still welcoming questions. Still restoring stories.
And yes—he’s pursuing you, too.
I love being your pastor,
Brady