04/05/2026
Sunday is here. She came to the garden before sunrise — her heart heavy, her eyes still swollen from grief. She had watched Him die. She had seen the stone rolled into place. And yet something pulled her back to the tomb. The tomb was empty.
And then, through her tears, a voice she didn't recognize asked her: "He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”
She thought He was the gardener. Then He said one word. Her name. "Mary." She turned. And in that single word, the resurrection became personal. Not a distant miracle. Not an ancient headline. A name. Her name. Spoken by the One who had conquered death.
She cried out — "Rabboni!" — and ran to tell the world. — John 20:15–18
Two thousand years later, travelers stand at the empty Tomb in Jerusalem, and the stone is still rolled away. He is risen.