From Confusion to Hope: The Women’s Easter Story

“From Confusion to Hope: The Women’s Easter Story”

Scripture: Luke 24:1–12

Rev. Mark Bartsch

Kobe Union Church

April 20, 2025

The first Easter doesn’t start with sunshine and celebration. In my family, we greet each other with the proclamation, “Christ has risen!” and respond, “He has risen indeed!” But that first Easter morning began in the dark—with sorrow, silence, and uncertainty.

Luke tells us that very early on Sunday morning, the women—Mary Magdalene and others who had followed Jesus—went to His tomb. They brought spices to care for His dead body. They loved Jesus, but their hearts were broken. They had believed He was the Messiah, but He had been brutally killed. Their hopes died on the cross, just as Jesus’ body did.

They came to care. You’ve heard the phrase, “Better late than never.” I imagine they had wanted to care for Jesus’ body right after the crucifixion, but because of the Sabbath restrictions during Passover, they had to wait. The men had hurriedly placed Jesus in the tomb before sundown, and the women likely felt that it had been rushed—unfinished. Now, they were coming to do it properly.

But let’s be clear—they weren’t expecting a miracle that morning. They came to grieve. To mourn. Maybe they hoped that, over time, God would help them find closure. But after the trauma of the past few days—the violence, the betrayal, the unjust execution—they were probably numb. In shock. Maybe even dealing with something like PTSD.

Mark’s Gospel adds another detail: they were worried about who would move the stone. It’s such a practical concern, but it reveals something deeper. It shows how powerless they felt. Imagine the scene—they’re already on the way to the tomb, maybe almost there, when one of them suddenly remembers the stone. That massive, immovable obstacle. They knew they didn’t have the strength to move it.

Most people would’ve turned around. After all, what’s the point in going if you can’t do what you set out to do? But they kept going anyway.

I liken it to getting all the way to Kansai International Airport, bags packed, tickets ready, only to realize you’ve forgotten your passport. Suddenly, the future feels uncertain. Everything stops making sense.

Have you ever felt like God was calling you to something, and as you start out in faith—putting that faith into action—you suddenly realize you don’t have what it takes? That you’re missing something essential? That you’re not strong enough, smart enough, spiritual enough?

But here’s what I love about the women in this story—they went anyway. In their grief, in their confusion, in their powerlessness—they kept walking. And that’s when everything changed.

If you’ve ever felt lost, unsure, or unqualified, know this—you’re in good company. You walk the footprints of the saints: people who walked by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7). They didn’t move forward because they had it all together. Not one prophet, not one saint had it all together and yet they followed God and so can we. That is if you move forward trusting in God, because God knows—we are not enough on our own. And we’re not.

Let’s be honest—in a world where everyone seems to have it all together on social media, we know the truth. God sees behind the curtain of our façade.

The women arrived at the tomb early that morning, and the stone was already rolled away. Praise God, right? That’s what we expect them to say. After all, they had a big problem—and before they even got there, it was solved. The obstacle was gone. That should be good news.

But it wasn’t. At least, not yet.

Here’s a warning we all need to hear. And this isn’t just an Easter truth—it’s an everyday spiritual truth: Be careful when you find yourself ping-ponging back and forth between worries and problems. First, the women were worried: “Who will roll the stone away?” Then, when they saw it was rolled away, they panicked: “Oh no—who rolled it away?”

Corrie ten Boom once said, “Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength.” That’s a truth we can hang our hats on.

When you’re bouncing between fear and confusion like the women, listen to Jesus’ words in Mark 9:29: “This kind can only come out by prayer and fasting.” Not all problems will disappear when you pray—but when you are centered on Christ, you’ll begin to see problems for what they are, instead of letting them grow into things they’re not.

The women had good reason to be terrified. In the first century, grave robbing was common. Thieves stole valuables—rings, jewelry, even bodies. They’d ransom the bodies back to families. It was such a problem that Emperor Claudius made it a capital offense. So, when they saw the stone rolled away and the tomb empty, their minds raced: “What now?”

John’s Gospel tells us that Mary Magdalene ran to Peter crying, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put Him!”

Her anguish is real. First, the trauma of the cross—and now this?

But then everything changed.

Luke says, “Suddenly two men (angels) in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them.” In John’s account, the angels are seated—one at the head and one at the foot of where Jesus’ body had lain. This imagery isn’t random. It echoes something sacred: the Ark of the Covenant.

On the Ark, two cherubim sat at either end, facing each other, and in between them was the Mercy Seat—the very place where God’s presence dwelled, where once a year, the high priest would sprinkle the blood of a sacrifice to atone for the sins of the people. That was the meeting place between God and His people. It was the heart of the old covenant.

"Think about this: the Mercy Seat in the Old Testament? That wasn't just a gold lid. It was the place where God's justice and mercy met. But get this – it's not an object anymore. Now our mercy seat is Jesus. He's our meeting place with God now. He is the way the truth and our life. He's where justice and mercy meet.

And that empty tomb? It wasn't a robbery. It was a victory! Mercy showed up and kicked death to the curb. Just like Isaiah said way back in the day, in chapter 43, verse 19: 'See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; don’t you see it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.'

That's not just pretty poetry. God is making a way for you where there seemed to be no way. Just like when God made a way for the people when they were stuck between Pharoh’s armies and the Red sea the Lord made a way when there seemed to be no way. He is doing the same thing by rolling away the stone.

Now picture the women at the tomb. They were totally overwhelmed, bowing down, but they weren't really getting it. Even the angels were a little surprised! They basically asked, 'Hey, what are you doing looking for someone alive in a place for the dead? And too often we look in the wrong places for the right answers. He's not here – He's risen!' Those angels were and are shouting from the rooftops that death has lost its power. It's been stung!

What a question, right? It wasn't a put-down. It was a wake-up call. The angels figured Jesus' followers had been listening! They were expecting celebration, not sadness. Resurrection, not regret.

So, the angels keep going, 'Remember what He told you? That the Son of Man had to be handed over, nailed to a cross, and then, on the third day, rise again.' And then comes this beautiful, quiet moment: 'Then they remembered His words.'

These women, they went back to the eleven – talk about being brave! They were the first witnesses. Telling everyone what Jesus had told them, and what the angels just confirmed.

It's interesting, isn't it? In John's Gospel, it's like BAM! – Jesus appears to Mary. But Luke's account? It's more of a slow burn, a mystery unfolding bit by bit. You don't see the whole picture all at once. And maybe that's where the power of Luke's story hits us today. Because how often in our own lives does the light dawn in a sudden flash? Usually, it's a gradual thing, a little shift in the darkness, a tiny spark of hope whispering, 'Maybe, just maybe, there's more to this.' Maybe just maybe the Jesus (after the resurrection) the Christ can love me too.

Think about those women again. They didn't see the risen Jesus right away, at least not in Luke's version. They had an empty tomb, confused hearts, only the words of angels. It was remembering what Jesus had promised that turned things around for them. 'Then they remembered His words.'

Do you remember? It's one of the big themes of Passover in the Old Testament. In Deuteronomy, chapter 6:20~21, 'When your children ask you in time to come, “What is the meaning of the testimonies and the statutes and the rules that the Lord our God has commanded you?” then you shall say to your children, “We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt. And the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.”'

Well, we're called to remember too, just like the angels reminded the women, and the women told the disciples. We were slaves – slaves to death, separated from God, living in bondage. But the Lord brought us out, through the waters of baptism, with His mighty hand.

The guys didn't believe the women right away, just like Thomas doubted later on. But here's the thing: if you keep the faith, if you leave even a tiny crack in the door of your heart open to life, the light of Christ will come in. Maybe it'll be a sudden, bright flash like it was for Paul, or maybe it'll be a slow warming of your heart to His love, like it was for me. But if you let the light in, God will show you the way out of bondage and into real life. Because that's what Jesus promised. He came to give us life – not just a little bit, but life overflowing. That is what we celebrate on Easter. Life.