The Death of Death

There’s a reason Easter is not quiet.

Because resurrection is not polite.

It doesn’t whisper. It doesn’t tap gently at the door. It breaks in. It rolls stones away. It splits time in two. It shouts through history and through every fear with one thunderous truth:

He is not here. He is risen.

That sentence alone should silence every doubt. Because if He rose—if the tomb is empty—then everything else He said is true. Every word, every warning, every whisper of love.

He said He would suffer. He did.

He said He would be betrayed. He was.

He said He would rise again. And death had no say in the matter.

This is not a story we tell to feel better in springtime. This is the moment that split the veil, crushed the serpent’s head, and declared once and for all:

Death has lost.

Do you feel the weight of that?

He didn’t just rise because He could. He rose because it was necessary—for you. His rising was not a stunt—it was a substitution. He took your death, your penalty, your separation. And when it was finished, He left it buried.

But let’s not get too far ahead. Because before He rose, He died. He went first. And now He says to you: Come and follow me. Through death. Into life.

And here’s where I want to slow us down. Because resurrection isn’t just a holy headline. It’s an invitation.

There’s power in this resurrection. Not just in theory. Not just in heaven. But in you—now. If you belong to Him, you are not waiting for resurrection. You are living in it. The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lives in you. And He didn’t move in to take up space. He came to raise what was dead. To bring what was buried into bloom.

But let’s be real—some mornings, you don’t feel very resurrected, do you?

You wake up with yesterday’s thoughts. Yesterday’s habits. That ache in your body, or worse, that ache in your spirit. And you wonder if anything’s really changed.

So here’s something to smile about:

If Jesus Christ can rise from the dead, you can rise out of your bed.

You can rise to meet Him in the quiet before your phone starts buzzing.

You can rise with your heart still messy and your life still sorting itself out.

You can rise and believeth on Him—not just believe in Him like a dusty idea on a shelf, but believeth on Him like the foundation of your entire being.

Because that’s what resurrection means. You don’t stand next to it. You stand on it.

This is not self-improvement. This is death and rebirth. The cross is not an accessory. It’s a turning point. And it’s yours to carry.

Because if you haven’t died with Him, you won’t rise with Him. And friend, He wants you to rise.

He wants you to leave the grave behind.

To walk away from that version of you that coped, that hid, that chased approval, that bowed to fear. He wants you to bury every lie the enemy ever told you in that tomb—and never return.

Do you hear the beauty in that? Your old life is gone. Your new life is hidden. That means it is protected. Guarded. Held in nail-scarred hands.

You are not rising alone. You are rising with the King of Kings.

And if you still need a little help believing that’s possible, here’s one more thing to carry with you:

The stone was too heavy for the women to roll. But it was already gone.

They came in love, unsure of how it would work. But the way was already made.

So if you’re wondering how to break through—how to overcome sin, or shame, or cycles you can’t seem to shake—stop trying to roll the stone yourself.

The stone is gone.

The grave is empty.

The King is risen.

And He is calling you to rise—not someday, but today. Not in perfection, but in surrender. Not with all the answers, but with a heart that says, "I believe. Help thou mine unbelief." (Mark 9:24)

The death of death has already happened.
The only thing left to bury now… is your old self.

Come out of the grave.

Come into the light.

Come alive.

He is waiting for you—not with shame, but with open arms.

Not to scold you for where you’ve been, but to walk with you into where He’s always known you could go. 

The stone is rolled away.
The path is clear.

And the risen Christ stands ready—not just to welcome you home, but to raise you to life.

Are you still clinging to what Christ already buried?