Here we are, the day after Easter. The echoes of "He is Risen!" are still fresh. A new week begins!
Perhaps because of that, I've been considering how grounding it is to remember that Jesus' story is deeply anchored in history.
The resurrection isn't built on whispers or myths that grew over centuries. Instead, think about this: the very earliest Christian writings we have, Paul's letters, were penned barely two decades after the crucifixion, already testifying to Jesus's life, death, and resurrection, and confirming Paul knew original eyewitnesses.
Then, within the same century, we get the Gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – our primary narratives, which paint detailed portraits of who Jesus was and what he did.
You know what else is remarkable? The Jesus story isn’t just inside information.
Around the turn of that first century and into the second, Roman historians like Tacitus and officials like Pliny, plus the Jewish historian Josephus, also wrote about Jesus or his followers. They confirm his existence, execution under Pilate, and the movement that worshipped him "as to a god."1 What makes these sources so valuable is their independence. These writers weren't crafting scripture; they were simply recording history from an outside perspective.
It’s this convergence of followers, Romans, and Jews all leaving a record within roughly a hundred years that gives us a solid historical footing. The story that changes everything left a real, verifiable footprint in the world.
But this footprint demands a response.
It's one thing to acknowledge what the historical data points to, that Jesus of Nazareth was executed by Rome, and followers claimed resurrection. It’s another thing entirely to reckon with the claim at the heart of it all.
Oh, the power and authority given to a man who predicts his own death and resurrection, and then sees it through. Think about that. This disrupts everything we think we know about how the world works.
I often spend Holy Week immersed in reading the Gospels. It’s fascinating how Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John each highlight unique facets of the story. There’s so much to absorb, to meditate on – the details, the emotions, the theological weight.
This season, here’s what has stood out to me: simply knowing the Jesus story, even reflecting deeply on it, isn't enough. The historical data and the resurrection narrative details are the maps, but they aren't the destination. Power isn't just in the information; power ignites when that information is believed – trusted not just as fact, but as the defining truth of reality.
Reading and understanding is crucial, yes. But staking your life on this story? That’s where everything changes.
The final chapter of Matthew’s Gospel illustrates this well. He presents two rival stories birthed from that first Easter morning.
You have Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, encountering an empty tomb, an angel, and then Jesus himself. They’re terrified, joyful, and commissioned. You see the disciples, moving from doubt and hiding to worship and mission upon seeing their risen Lord.
That’s one story: Christ is Risen.
But Matthew also shows us the counter-narrative, born of fear and power preservation. The religious leaders pay the Roman guards – the very men who witnessed the earthquake and the angel – to spread a lie: “His disciples came during the night and stole him while we were sleeping.”2 A story designed to manage the disruption, to keep the lid on, to maintain the status quo.
That’s the second story: “He isn’t risen, it’s nonsense, go back to your lives.”
There it is. Two stories, two possibilities flowing from that empty tomb.
And there’s no middle ground, is there? We either stand with the women and the disciples, clinging to the world-changing hope testified by eyewitnesses.
Or, we quietly accept the explanation designed to neutralize the resurrection's power, the one whispered by guards on payroll.
We are all presented with these two stories, and ultimately, we have to choose which one we believe.
Because if we believe the resurrection story, if we truly embrace the scandalous hope of Christ’s return to the living, then everything shifts. Priorities change because our ultimate hope changes. How we view our work, our relationships, our time, our resources – it all starts to look different through the lens of an empty tomb and a living King.
Heaven becomes not a distant destination, but it cracks open into our present reality. The Gospel moves from being information we know to a reality we inhabit.
And when that happens, when the Gospel is truly believed and lived, something else begins.
Heaven is poured out through us.
We find ourselves caught up in the same mission Jesus gave those first disciples on that mountain in Galilee: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations..."3 We start living our lives, even ordinary Mondays, as a response to the reality of the resurrection. Work becomes a way to participate in God's renewal. Relationships become conduits for grace. Lives become signposts pointing to the risen King.
This Easter Monday, may the events we remembered last week not just be historical markers but living realities shaping us today. May the truth of the empty tomb change how we walk into the office, how we speak to our family, how we face challenges, and how we spend our time. May our lives look different this week than they did before, marked by the quiet confidence of the resurrection.
Maybe for you, Holy Week felt a bit distant this year. Perhaps Easter felt more like an obligation than an encounter, and the story didn't quite land.
If that's you, hear this: the invitation isn't over.
The reality of the resurrection is an ongoing, life-giving truth available to every single person, every single day. You can step into that story right now. Crack open the Gospels yourself. Talk to God about it. The invitation stands.
And if you did feel your cup fill this past week? If the reality of the resurrection feels fresh and potent?
Then the encouragement is simple: keep going. Carry the peace of the risen Savior into every meeting, every conversation, every quiet moment. Be with Jesus, become like him, and do the things he did.
He is, indeed, alive. And so are you.
https://www.worldhistory.org/article/1846/pliny-the-younger-on-christianity/
W. Hall Harris III et al., eds., The Lexham English Bible (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2012), Mt 28:13.
The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Mt 28:19.