We all face moments where our own strength fails us. The list of things we cannot control, fix, or change can feel overwhelming and endless. This is not a sign of failure, but a universal human experience. It is the starting point for a deeper journey, a place of raw and genuine honesty. True transformation begins when we stop pretending and simply admit, “I can’t.” [41:44]
“I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5, ESV)
Reflection: What is one specific area of your life where you have been trying to maintain control, and what would it look like to honestly admit “I can’t” in that situation this week?
God is actively at work removing obstacles in our lives, not for His benefit, but for ours. What we often perceive as a loss or a subtraction may actually be His gracious provision. He moves the immovable things that seal off our hope so that we can see His power and presence. The barriers that seem permanent are dismissed by His authority, inviting us to look inside and witness what He has done. [51:43]
And behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. (Matthew 28:2, ESV)
Reflection: Can you identify a ‘stone’ in your life—a closed-off hope or a sealed-off dream—that God might be inviting you to look at again with fresh eyes of faith?
It is a profound paradox that we often guard the dead places in our hearts because we are afraid of what life might require of us. We fear the vulnerability of hoping again, the risk of trying again, and the potential pain of loving again. An open tomb is only good news if we truly desire what is inside to come out. Resurrection power invites us to confront our fear of being hurt and to choose life. [56:21]
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26, ESV)
Reflection: What is one part of your heart that you have ‘sealed off’ with guards of self-protection, and what is the specific fear that keeps you from wanting God to bring life to it?
The God of all comfort meets us exactly where we are, in the midst of our grief and confusion. He does not rush past our pain to get to a theological point; He sees the burdens we carry and acknowledges them. His first words are often words of comfort and recognition, assuring us that our reality is known to Him. This divine empathy is the foundation upon which we can hear the incredible news of resurrection. [57:29]
The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified.” (Matthew 28:5, ESV)
Reflection: As you bring your burdens to God today, how does it change your perspective to know that He fully sees and acknowledges your pain before anything else?
Faith does not require having all the answers; it simply requires taking one step with the evidence or the sense of God’s presence you already have. You are invited to move toward the open door, however slightly it may be cracked. This step is not about blind belief, but a response to an invitation based on what you have seen, felt, or cannot explain. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single, humble step of trust. [01:04:39]
Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:29, ESV)
Reflection: What is one tangible step—whether investigating a question, joining a group, or simply praying an honest prayer—that you feel prompted to take this week as you respond to God’s invitation?
Matthew 28 unfolds as a raw, gritty scene of people who reached the end of their own strength and discovered a power beyond human control. Two Marys approach a tomb before dawn carrying burial spices—expecting a corpse, not a miracle—and grief propels them forward. An angel descends, rolls the stone away, and sits casually as if to say the grave no longer matters; the stone moves not to free the risen one but to invite sight and access for those who come. Roman guards collapse in terror, not because a body might walk out, but because a world view that death wins collapses. The empty tomb exposes the cost of guarding finished stories and the risk required to unseal buried places of life inside people.
The narrative reframes failure and helplessness as entry points rather than endpoints. Lists of “I can’t”—from addiction and shame to broken relationships and lost hope—become honest confessions that open the way downstairs, where true healing and change often begin. Resurrection proves decisive: if Christ rose, then death does not have the final word and the many “I can’t” in life lose their ultimate authority. Witness testimony, the empty grave, and transformed followers who moved from hiding to bold proclamation build a cumulative case that demands investigation, not mere dismissal.
The text compels a response: a step. Faith does not require all explanations before movement; it asks for an honest approach, a willingness to enter the open door and test the claim that what is dead can live again. Practical pathways follow—acknowledging pain, seeking community, embracing humility, and repeatedly returning to the posture of “I can’t, but he can.” The invitation remains ongoing: keep coming downstairs, keep confessing inability, and keep stepping toward a power that rolls away stones, reopens closed rooms, and makes the tomb a doorway to new life.
A beginning of a journey. See, it all hinges though on one morning, Hinges on one empty tomb, one Sunday. That if it's true, changes everything. And if it's not, changes nothing. I mean, if Jesus doesn't rise from the grave, then, you know, this is a nice philosophy. It really is. It's a great moral ethic. Even Jesus' critics would say he was a remarkable teacher. It's a it's a it's a beautiful tradition if he didn't raise from the grave. But if Jesus rose from the grave, well, then it changes everything.
[00:45:57]
(32 seconds)
#EmptyTombChangesEverything
Can you explain why we are singing songs two thousand years ago about a man who died back then? No historian would deny that he lived, that he died. Can you explain why we're still singing songs that people are gathering in this room from well over 80 national 70 some nationalities and we're gathering or worshiping around the world? Because billions of Christians are gathering in places just like this because they discover a truth that they can't, but he can. And that's Easter in a nutshell. I can't, but he can.
[00:58:50]
(38 seconds)
#WhyWeSingEaster
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