One Name
For most of my life, Easter has been loud.
Easter is like New Year’s Day for Christians. Growing up in church, the band at church is at its best, and the volume of the songs is dialed up. The kids’ programs are full of fun. Often, the post-service is a large, celebratory event. Time with family later in the day was a full house, full table, and the like. I have many fond memories of these times, and I think there is a certain appropriateness to them.
After all, the resurrection of Jesus is not a small thing. Rather, it is the defining moment of Christianity. The Resurrection is the death of death, and the moment hope is, at last, secured. It has often been said that “the resurrection changes everything,” and it does! The loudness of our celebrations, then, is not shallow, nor is it misapplied. I think it is often a way for us to match the moment for what it is – grand, triumphant, celebratory.
At the same time, as I have recently read the Resurrection Sunday texts of Scripture, I cannot help but notice the absence of the loudness I have associated with it and come to expect.
Matthew 28:1-4 NIV
After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.
This first look at the Resurrection appears to counter my point. The ground shakes, the stone is moved, and guards fall as if dead. Seems “loud,” right? But, compare even this to the events of Palm Sunday, and the picture changes somewhat:
Matthew 21:8-10a NIV
A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred…
Palm Sunday was truly, literally loud – complete with a large crowd, shouting voices, décor, and more. On Palm Sunday, Jesus arrives publicly and unmistakably, with the attention and expectation of the masses. But when you come to the Resurrection, everything shifts down, substantially. Though it is the climactic moment of God’s decisive act in history, it is surprisingly minimal in its visibility. There are no crowds, and there is no fanfare. No one is there to see it except two women and a few unfortunate Roman soldiers.
We often focus on the power of the Resurrection but miss the person of the Resurrection. When you keep reading the Resurrection accounts, the attention of Scripture moves past the powerful and toward something far more personal. After the earthquake, the stone rolling, and the guards falling, Scripture turns toward people grieving, hiding, and doubting as those Jesus meets first.
John 20:1, 11-16a NIV
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?” “They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus. He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”
Mary was a privileged witness of the Resurrection. According to Matthew’s account, she was there and witnessed the power. But she didn’t see Jesus, and she wept. She was not looking for power; she was looking for Him, the One she affectionately calls “My Lord.” She thinks He has been taken away, and she is beside herself, trying to make sense of what she sees and what she does not.
When she does see Jesus, she mistakes Him for the gardener at first. I have heard messages on this passage taught in such a way that Mary is given flak for this, but I don’t think that is deserved. The passage did say it was still dark; maybe she couldn’t see well. Perhaps, like the men on the Emmaus Road, she was supernaturally kept from recognizing Him. Maybe her grief was so overwhelming that she couldn’t make out who was speaking. In any case, the reality is, it is possible to be near the power of God and fail to recognize His presence. I know that is true for me! I am often looking for something unmistakable and undeniable to prove God’s work, forgetting to find Him in the small, quiet, and simple of everyday life. This reminds me of Elijah:
1 Kings 19:11-12 CSB
“The Lord said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.’ Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”
This is the power that inspired Avatar! Earth, wind, and fire! — are all the things you would expect to carry God’s presence and prove His working. But He is not in those things. Instead, He takes Elijah past His power to something more, His voice. The same thing that happened to Elijah is happening to Mary. The Resurrection does not lack power, but God takes her beyond the power and to the person Himself. And that person speaks.
John 20:16b NIV
Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).
Nothing here has changed about the Resurrection – it has already happened! Jesus is already alive. But Mary’s awareness of it, and her ability to see it for what it was, suddenly came about in a fuller way. Through something as simple as her name being spoken, everything changes for Mary, because a name is personal. It is how we are known and addressed. In that moment, Jesus does not reveal Himself to Mary through power, but through something far more direct. Jesus speaks her name, she sees Him, and her grief is overtaken with joy.
Amazingly, that pattern continues.
John 20:19-21a NIV
On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you!
Even though Mary and the other woman have shared the news (and, according to Matthew’s account, Peter and John saw an empty tomb), the disciples are not out in the streets celebrating. They are not proclaiming victory or celebrating triumph. Instead, they are gathered behind locked doors, afraid. They are hiding, yet, in His kindness, Jesus comes to them right where they are. The Scriptures purpose to show us that Jesus did not call them out from behind the locked door; He entered in and stood among them. He did not scold them for unbelief or challenge their fear; He said, “Peace.” Jesus speaks peace, the disciples see Him, and their fear is overtaken by joy.
And then there is Thomas.
John 20:24-28 NIV
Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
Thomas is often remembered by a nickname: “Doubting Thomas.” It’s a label that has stuck, and in some ways, it makes sense. After all, he does say plainly that he will not believe unless he sees and touches the wounds for himself. His doubt is often interpreted as resistance or hesitation, but I am not sure that is an accurate assumption.
These events are a week after Jesus appears to the rest of the disciples, and the setting has not changed much. The disciples are still behind locked doors, not out in the streets proclaiming the news, even though Jesus had already sent them out to do so (see John 20:21b)! Yet again, Jesus meets them where they are, stands among them, and speaks peace to all present. But then he turns specifically to Thomas, and directly, personally invites him: “Put your finger here; see my hands; put your hand in my side. Doubt no more, Thomas. Believe.”
Jesus meets Thomas exactly where he is, even among a crowd of others whom He has already met, and reveals Himself personally. When Thomas finally sees Him, his response is not hesitant at all: “My Lord and my God!” is one of the clearest confessions of who Jesus is in all of the Gospels. Jesus speaks, Thomas sees Him, and his doubt is overtaken with joy.
This is not always true, but sometimes what we call doubt or unbelief is something closer to what we have already seen in Mary, in the disciples behind locked doors, and now in Thomas. It is the space where Jesus will speak to people and meet them with His presence – where something already powerful and true becomes personally known and impactful. This kind of recognition is not immediate, at least at first. It takes time, it comes slowly, and it comes personally.
After these meetings, the scope widens. Jesus “performs many other signs in the presence of his disciples” (John 20:30) and later appears to “over five hundred brothers and sisters at one time” (1 Corinthians 15:6). The Resurrection as a powerful, historic, defining moment became well-known before the ascension, and of course, ever since! But we cannot miss that the recognition, excitement, and proclamation of power come after quieter, more personal moments with Mary, the disciples, and Thomas, let alone the other conversations and meals Jesus had with others before He departed.
That is where this begins to settle in for me, for I cannot help but think about how often I find myself in those same places we have already seen. Sometimes I am grieving like Mary, trying to make sense of what feels lost or unclear, even while standing closer to the presence of Jesus than I realize. Sometimes I am afraid, like the disciples, aware of what is at stake and unsure of what comes next, hiding behind a locked heart-door and struggling to step out. And, if I am honest, I am sometimes uncertain, like Thomas. I often find myself wanting something more tangible than I have and hoping for something that feels unmistakable.
I am grateful for these accounts, because they reveal much about me, and they remind me that Jesus will reveal Himself to me despite my struggles to see Him. In each of those places, Jesus does not wait for people to move toward Him in strength or clarity. He comes to them. He speaks. He reveals Himself, not always in ways that are loud or dramatic, but in ways that are personal and fitting for the moment. I don’t think that makes the resurrection smaller.
In fact, I think that is the invitation of Easter.
Yes, believe that He is risen – because He is! And that is glorious! The resurrection is not less than we have celebrated it to be. There is a reason it has been proclaimed, sung about, and celebrated with such joy and volume for generations. Our loudness about it is not misplaced. But the Resurrection is not only a powerful, historical event. It is the revealing of a personal God to the people He loves. And He loves you, reader, just as He loves me. Consider that the same Jesus who met Mary, the disciples, and Thomas is closer to you than you may yet realize, even in your grief, fear, doubt, or other struggles.
I am seeing this more for me these days, and I am still learning to see this way, too.
Ultimately, the power of the Resurrection is Jesus Himself. The One who is proclaimed with joy and volume is the same One who meets us quietly and calls us by name, directly and personally, just as He did Mary. What grace! And in Him – in His name – the fullness of the Resurrection becomes not just something we celebrate, but someone we come to know.
John 20:30-31
Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.
John 11:25-26
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
Philippians 2:9-11
Therefore, God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
