He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified and on the third day rise.” And they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb they told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest. (Luke 24:6-9)

When the women went to the tomb that morning, they came with spices to anoint a body they thought was still lifeless. But instead of finding death, they encountered two angels declaring the most glorious news the world has ever heard: “He is not here, but has risen!”

Yet even in that incredible moment, the angelic messengers didn’t introduce a new idea. They simply reminded the women of what Jesus had already said.

“Remember how He told you…”

Jesus had not been secretive about His mission. Over and over again, He told His disciples that He would suffer, die, and rise again. But grief, fear, and confusion had clouded their memories. It took divine prompting to reignite what had been tucked away in their memory. And once they remembered, they moved into action.

The women left the tomb not with spices in hand, but with the truth on their lips, ready to tell the others. Luke tells us, “they told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest.” The message that Jesus was alive was too powerful, too essential, too life-altering to keep to themselves. Remembering His words, led to witnessing.

We are often like these women. We know the truth – Jesus is risen, His Word is true, His promises are sure; yet in the chaos and sorrow of life, sometimes we forget. We become overwhelmed by circumstances or discouraged by delay, and we lose sight of what He’s already told us.

But when we return to the Word and remember what He has said, our hearts and minds are renewed; and that renewal compels us to speak.

This is the heartbeat of the Gospel: Jesus died, was buried, and rose again – just as He said. And we are not called to come up with something new or flashy. We are called to remember His words and tell them to others.

Paul reminds us in Romans 10:17, “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” As we meditate on what Jesus has said, our faith grows. And as we share it, the gospel spreads.

Don’t underestimate the power of remembrance. And don’t withhold the joy of the resurrection from those who need to hear. Like the women at the tomb, may we be people who remember what Jesus has said and carry that message boldly into the lives of others. May what we do and speak truly be a testimony of God’s redeeming love.

The women who had come with him from Galilee followed and saw the tomb and how his body was laid. Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment. (Luke 23:55-56)

Grief has a way of driving us toward action. We want to do something to process the pain, to care for what’s been lost, or sometimes to cling to a sense of control. The women who followed Jesus from Galilee were no different. They had just watched their beloved Teacher suffer and die, and their hearts longed to anoint His body – an act of both reverence and affection. But with the Sabbath approaching, they faced a choice: proceed with their desire to tend to Jesus' body or honor the Sabbath as God commanded.

They chose obedience.

They rested – even in the sorrow, even in the tension of not finishing what their hearts desperately wanted to do. They honored the Lord not by rushing to the tomb, but by keeping His command. Their obedience, even in pain, was an act of worship.

This isn’t really even an issue about whether the act of anointing would technically break the Sabbath. Scripture tells us in Titus 1:15, “To the pure, all things are pure,” and Jesus often challenged the legalistic boundaries of Sabbath traditions that had been added to God’s intent with the command. But for these women who had been taught, lived by, and loved God’s law, their conscience of obedience was to rest. As James 4:17 reminds us, “So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”

Their surrender wasn’t just about Sabbath observance. It was about trusting God’s timing and will above their own thoughts, emotions, and desires. They denied themselves and waited – not knowing that their act of obedience would position them to be the first to witness the resurrection.

Our own griefs, unmet expectations, or sense of urgency can tempt us to take matters into our own hands. When plans fall apart or life wounds us deeply, the natural instinct is to act, to fix, to move. But sometimes, the holiest thing we can do is rest in obedience – even when it costs us something.

Jesus said in Luke 9:23, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” These women didn’t just deny themselves the comfort of caring for Jesus’ body on their own terms; they chose to follow God’s Word even in confusion and heartache. Their faith reminds us that obedience is not about comfort – it’s about trust.

May we learn from their example to prioritize God’s voice over our impulses, to obey even when emotions scream otherwise, and to rest in the truth that worship is found in surrender.

Now there was a man named Joseph, from the Jewish town of Arimathea. He was a member of the council, a good and righteous man, who had not consented to their decision and action; and he was looking for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down and wrapped it in a linen shroud and laid him in a tomb cut in stone, where no one had ever yet been laid. It was the day of Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning. (Luke 23:50-54)

In the aftermath of an unjust crucifixion, we are introduced to a man of quiet courage – Joseph of Arimathea. As a member of the Jewish council, Joseph was wealthy, respected, and held a prestigious position. Yet when the Sanhedrin demanded Jesus' death, Joseph “had not consented to their decision and action.” While others went along with the crowd, Joseph stood apart. While Pilate gave in to pressure, Joseph held to conviction. And while others sought to protect their status, Joseph looked for the kingdom of God.

This is no small thing. In touching the dead body of Jesus to prepare it for burial, Joseph defiled himself according to ceremonial law, forfeiting his ability to participate in the Sabbath preparations. He willingly traded religious cleanliness and social standing to honor his crucified Lord.

This kind of faith is costly. It is the kind of devotion that refuses to blend in with the culture for the sake of comfort or appearance. Joseph risked his reputation, his religious privilege, and likely his relationships within the council, all to identify with Jesus in His death.

This calls us to question how we pursue Jesus. Ask yourself this question – do I pursue Jesus with such fervor and resolution?

In Philippians 3:7–8, Paul echoes this kind of faith: “But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For His sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.”

Joseph of Arimathea, like Paul, shows us what it means to live with eternity in view. He wasn’t driven by fear or popularity, he was driven by a longing for God’s kingdom. He wasn’t trying to preserve his life, but to honor the One who had just laid His down.

Today, the pressure to conform to worldly values is just as real. Many remain silent rather than speak the truth of Christ. Some fear being labeled as intolerant, fanatical, or foolish. But true discipleship means dying to the approval of man in order to live fully for God.

Let’s ask ourselves these questions:

• Am I willing to be labeled badly by culture to honor Jesus?
• Do I forsake earthly titles and inclusion to stand with Christ?
• Am I looking for the kingdom of God, even if it costs me my status, comfort, or security?

Joseph may have buried Jesus in a tomb, but his actions proclaimed a living faith. In a moment of greatest loss, he revealed the greatest gain – a heart set on God’s kingdom. May we all have the courage of Jospeh of Arimathea – standing firm when others cave, seeking the kingdom of God above all else, and counting all as loss to unashamedly identify with Christ.

It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last. (Luke 23:44-46)

As Jesus took His final breath, a miraculous and deeply symbolic event took place: the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Matthew and Mark tell us that this curtain was torn from top to bottom. This was an unmistakable detail showing it was God who tore it, not man.

This wasn’t just a tear in fabric, it was a tearing open of what had long been closed off. The temple curtain had separated the Holy of Holies (the very dwelling place of God) from everyone else. Only the high priest, once a year, and only with a blood sacrifice, could enter beyond that curtain. It was a vivid reminder that sin separates humanity from God.

But now, through Jesus, that separation was finished. The final, perfect sacrifice had been made, the atonement was complete, and redemption was achieved. Jesus had fully taken on the wrath of God, satisfied the justice of God, and opened the way for sinners to come into the presence of God.

The torn curtain was the visible sign of what had spiritually been accomplished on the cross. Hebrews 10:19–20 made that very clear, “We have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, His body.”

And yet, even today, even among professing Christians – it can be hard to live as though it is truly finished. Legalism creeps in. Pride tries to earn what grace has already given. We feel like we must contribute something to our salvation or prove ourselves worthy of it. But that’s not the gospel.

Salvation is not Jesus plus our efforts – it’s Christ alone. The more we rest in His finished work, the more we walk in the freedom He died to give us. We are not called to work for our salvation but to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, because it has already been secured – we are now encouraged to take our faith seriously and be diligent in our pursuit of close relationship with God.

Just as Jesus said, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit,” we too are called to commit ourselves fully to God, and not only our lives, but also our trust in His completed work. Romans 12:1 calls us to be living sacrifices, not striving for salvation, but surrendered in response to it. In a world striving to prove itself, may we be people who rest in completed work and remember the torn curtain – living in confidence that we are secure in Christ.

Because truly – it is finished…in Christ alone.

One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:39-43)

Two criminals hung beside Jesus that day on calvary. Both were guilty, both were dying, and both had a front-row seat to the suffering and strength of the Son of God. One mocked Him, joining the crowd in scorn. But the other – broken, repentant, and fully aware of his guilt – responded with humility and faith.

This second criminal didn’t defend himself. He didn’t ask to be spared from death. He didn’t attempt to bargain with God. He simply acknowledged and confessed the truth: “We are receiving the due reward for our deeds.” And then, turning to Jesus, he made a request that humbly echo through this crucifixion account forever: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

That word remember carries deep meaning. It’s more than just recalling a name or face. In Scripture, to “remember” implies acting with intentionality. When God says in Isaiah that He will remember our sins no more, it means He chooses not to act on them (Isaiah 43:25). And here, the criminal wasn’t just asking Jesus to think of him – he was asking for mercy. For a place in Jesus’ coming kingdom. For grace. For redemption.

And Jesus, bleeding and dying, answered with the most astonishing assurance: “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Here’s the thing - this criminal would still die that day. His body would suffer the consequence of his sin according to human justice. But his soul was redeemed in an instant. No religious rituals, no time for good works; just a heart of faith and a cry for mercy. And Jesus paid it all.

As Jesus said in His sermon on the mount, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3). This dying criminal was the very picture of spiritual poverty. He had nothing to offer, no way to make up for his crimes – and he knew it. And yet, to him the kingdom of heaven was given.

Commentator D.A. Carson puts it this way: “The kingdom of heaven is not given on the basis of race, earned merits, the military zeal and prowess of Zealots, or the wealth of a Zacchaeus. It is given to the poor, the despised publicans, the prostitutes, those who are so ‘poor’ they know they can offer nothing and do not try. They cry for mercy and they alone are heard.”

And Charles Spurgeon wrote, “The poor in spirit are lifted from the dunghill, and set, not among hired servants in the field, but among princes in the kingdom.” This moment on the cross shatters every performance-based idea of salvation. You don’t have to clean yourself up to come to Jesus. You just have to come - in humility, in faith, asking to be remembered. And He will answer with the full assurance of paradise.

This truth goes beyond our ultimate salvation - You don’t have to clean yourself up to come to Jesus - you just have to come. How often do we claim our salvation and identity in Christ to not come to Jesus when we’re weak and weary. Yet of His disciples, Jesus said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:28-29)

When was the last time you found rest for your soul, my friend?

We don’t need to have it all together – just because we’re in Christ doesn’t mean we will have it all together. It only causes strife if we deceive ourselves and others into thinking we do. It’s ok to be broken – but don’t stay there and wallow in it. Humbly come to Jesus seeking His mercy and grace in faith, and simply receive it and find rest for your soul.

And the people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” (Luke 23:35-39)

As Jesus hung on the cross, bloody and beaten, the voices of the crowd around Him yelled the challenge: “If you are the Christ… save yourself.” The crowds, the rulers, the soldiers – even the criminal crucified beside Him – taunted and tempted Him to prove His identity through performance. They questioned His power and mocked His silence.

Here’s the thing - Jesus had heard those same temptations before.

In the wilderness, Satan confronted Jesus after forty days of fasting with words just as biting: “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become bread.” “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here.” (Luke 4) The enemy attacked Jesus’ identity and tried to bait Him into proving who He was by showcasing His power. But Jesus didn’t take the bait. Instead, He stood on the Word, repeating again and again: “It is written…” He resisted the devil and the devil fled from Him.

Now, years later, as He was nailed to the cross, the temptations returned – but this time in human voices. Still, Jesus didn’t flinch, He set His face like a flint (Isaiah 50:7). Jesus didn’t need to defend Himself or prove anything because He knew who He was. His silence wasn’t weakness; it was strength. He could have called legions of angels. He could have come down from the cross. But He stayed there because His mission wasn’t to prove Himself, it was to save us.

We, too, will face moments when our identity is questioned – when people, or even our own thoughts, whisper, “If you really are loved by God, then why are you suffering?” or “If you’re truly an upright child of God, why don’t you defend yourself?” These temptations are subtle, but dangerous. They push us to perform, to seek validation from people, and to defend ourselves instead of trusting God – to be our defender and in His sovereign plan.

But my friend, if you are in Christ, your identity is secure. You are a child of God, fully known and fully loved. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Scripture says, “You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You” (Isaiah 26:3), and “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). When temptation to prove ourselves comes, to effectively resist the devil, we only need to stand firm on God’s Word, trusting that it’s true, and that God is a God of His word and will strengthen you to overcome.

Just as Jesus did – the Word of God is still the weapon that silences every single lie.

Don’t let the world’s taunts or satan’s whispers shake you, just let them roll off like water on a duck’s back. Resist the urge to react or defend yourself in the flesh – it will only lead to sin. Instead, stand firm, trust the Father, and keep your eyes fixed on Jesus, your Messiah. The One who didn’t save Himself so He could save you will give you the strength to overcome every temptation.

Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And they cast lots to divide his garments. (Luke 23:32-34)

As Jesus hung between two criminals, blood already beginning to flow from the scourging, thorns piercing His brow, the weight of the wooden cross pressing against torn flesh – His first recorded words were not a cry of pain or a plea for justice. They were a prayer: “Father, forgive them.”

Even before the hours of agony ahead – before the mocking, the suffocation, and the slow crawl toward death – His heart was already full of forgiveness. This was no spontaneous act of mercy. Jesus’ forgiveness was a resolve carried into the cross, not formed upon it. He had already decided to love, to forgive, to endure. He wasn’t overcome by grace in the moment; He embodied grace.

This is the Lamb who was “slain from the foundation of the world” (Revelation 13:8). Long before nails pierced His hands, long before humanity fell in the garden, long before the first breath of man – He knew. He knew we would betray, deny, and crucify Him. He knew the cross would be necessary. And still, He created us.

What kind of love He is! That a holy God would form us from dust, breathe life into us, knowing full well that we would rebel, and that redeeming us would cost Him everything.

Yet on the cross, He said it aloud: “Father, forgive them.” Not because the Father needed convincing, but because we did. In His spoken words, He removed all doubt. The forgiveness He carried in His heart from eternity past was now echoing through time and space for all to hear.

And those words weren’t just for the Roman soldiers or the angry crowd - they were for you. They were for me. They were for anyone who’s ever felt the crushing weight of guilt or the ache of shame. He not only bore our sins, He then declared us forgiven in the very act of bearing them.

Jesus didn’t wait for repentance before offering forgiveness. He didn’t demand we understand the depth of our offense first. No, “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). The cross was not merely the result of our sin – it was the remedy for it. His forgiveness wasn’t reactive, it was proactive. It was eternal and unshakable.

So, when you wonder if you’re too far gone, too broken, or too late – let go of that lie and look to the cross. Hear His words. Remember: He forgave you before you ever knew you needed it. Thank Him for that forgiveness and if necessary, ask for help to receive it freely. I pray that we may always walk in the forgiveness and freedom that Christ died to freely give us.

Pilate then called together the chief priests and the rulers and the people, and said to them, “You brought me this man as one who was misleading the people. And after examining him before you, behold, I did not find this man guilty of any of your charges against him. Neither did Herod, for he sent him back to us. Look, nothing deserving death has been done by him. I will therefore punish and release him.” But they all cried out together, “Away with this man, and release to us Barabbas”— a man who had been thrown into prison for an insurrection started in the city and for murder. Pilate addressed them once more, desiring to release Jesus, but they kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!” A third time he said to them, “Why? What evil has he done? I have found in him no guilt deserving death. I will therefore punish and release him.” But they were urgent, demanding with loud cries that he should be crucified. And their voices prevailed. So Pilate decided that their demand should be granted. (Luke 23:13-24)

Pilate was not a worshiper of God. Yet when Jesus became an issue he could no longer avoid, Pilate had to look directly into the face of truth. And what he saw, again and again, was innocence, as he repeated three times, “I find no guilt in this man.” Logic, evidence, and even his own conscience pointed to one conclusion: Jesus had done nothing worthy of death.

Still, the crowd would not relent, and the cries to crucify Him echoed through the air. And in the end, “their voices prevailed.” Not justice. Not truth. Not the integrity of a Roman governor in a seat of power. Just the pressure of a crowd prevailing.

Pilate’s failure is one we’re tempted to repeat in subtle ways. When standing for truth becomes costly – when it risks our reputation, our influence, or our comfort – how often do we remain silent or step aside? Though Pilate had no covenant relationship with God, his position still demanded a standard of righteousness. Authority always carries responsibility. And when Pilate yielded to the mob, he wasn’t just handing over an innocent man – he was surrendering to fear.

Charles Spurgeon once said, “He who kneels before God can stand before any man.” But Pilate didn’t kneel. He stood in front of Truth incarnate and crumbled under the weight of the crowd’s lofty chant. His heart may have been momentarily stirred, but ultimately his spine failed him. And with that, he walked away complicit in the greatest injustice the world has ever known.

As followers of Christ, we are not called to blend into the crowd, but to reflect the character of our King. Jesus stood silent in the face of false accusation, not because He lacked strength, but because He knew His silence fulfilled the Father’s will. He bore injustice to make us just. But now that we are made right with God, we must be willing to stand for what is right – even when it costs us something.

You may never face a literal crowd crying out against you. But you will face moments when the easy path is to ignore injustice, to overlook a lie, to choose silence when truth is begging to be spoken. In those moments, remember Pilate – and choose differently.

If you’ve been in Pilate’s shoes before, where your spine has failed you – take heart: there is grace. Let that grace move you to a new resolve of choosing to stand for truth. Let us be people of courage, grounded in prayer, fearless in the face of pressure – because we kneel before the throne of God.