The Servant and the Empty Tomb | Mark 16:1-8

Sermon Summary

The Devotion of His Followers

It was Sunday morning. The Sabbath had passed, and the garden was still wrapped in the hush of dawn. While most of the city still slept, three women quietly made their way toward the tomb—Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome. They were carrying spices, not because they expected resurrection, but because they expected to find a corpse.

And that’s what makes their journey so powerful.

They came in love. They came in sorrow. They came to honor the one they believed was lost. In their grief, they were faithful. They weren’t apostles. They weren’t teachers. They were devoted followers. They had stood nearby as Jesus died. They had watched where His body was laid. And now, they returned to that place, determined to do what they could to express their reverence.

But their devotion came with questions. “Who will roll away the stone?” they asked. It’s the same question many of us ask when we try to follow God in the dark. When grief is heavy, when answers are few—who will move the obstacles? How will we get through this?

And then they look up. And the stone is already rolled away.

God often meets devotion with divine intervention. We may not see it coming. We may not even believe it’s possible. But He goes before us. These women came in love, and they found the beginning of resurrection. Not because they had all the answers—but because their hearts were anchored in Jesus, even in death.

Their example reminds us that true devotion doesn’t wait for clarity or comfort. It simply walks toward the tomb, trusting that God will meet us in the place of our sorrow.

The Discovery of His Followers

As the women approached the tomb, their concern shifted to confusion. The stone was gone. The tomb was open. And inside, not the body of their Lord, but a young man in white—an angel of the Lord, radiant, waiting.

They were alarmed, Scripture tells us. And rightly so. What they thought was closure had turned into mystery.

But then came the announcement that shattered history:
“You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen. He is not here.”

He is risen.

Not “He will rise,” not “He lives in memory.” But a historical, bodily resurrection. The angel even points to the evidence: “Look at the place where they laid Him.” There’s no mystical fog here—no emotional metaphor. Just an empty space, still wrapped in burial cloths.

And for the first time, light begins to break through the darkness. The women weren’t just told what happened—they were invited to see it.

That’s the kind of God we serve. A God who invites us into the story. Who lets us come close, examine the evidence, and stand in awe. A God who doesn’t demand blind faith, but graciously reveals Himself to humble, broken people.

Mary and the others were the first to discover the reality of the resurrection. Before the apostles. Before Peter. God chose them—not because of their status, but because of their seeking hearts. They came in devotion and left in discovery.

This is how resurrection works. It takes those who are weeping and turns them into witnesses. It meets those who are mourning and fills them with wonder. The resurrection is not just a doctrine to believe; it’s a Person to encounter. The empty tomb means Jesus keeps His word. It means death does not get the final say. And it means we’re not alone in our pain.

This is our discovery too. That when we dare to come near to Jesus—even in grief, even in doubt—we don’t find a sealed grave. We find a Savior who is alive.

The Declaration to His Followers

The angel didn’t stop with the declaration—he gave a mission.

“Go, tell His disciples—and Peter—that He is going before you to Galilee.”

What a tender phrase. “And Peter.” Peter, who had denied Him. Peter, who had wept bitterly. Peter, who thought he’d disqualified himself from grace. But Jesus hadn't forgotten Peter.

This is resurrection love. It’s not vague or impersonal. It seeks out the fallen. It pursues the ashamed. It calls the prodigal home.

The angel could’ve said, “Tell the disciples,” and left it at that. But God knew Peter needed to hear his name. Just like He knows what you and I need to hear today.

This declaration wasn’t just about information—it was about restoration. It was an invitation to relationship. Jesus was alive. And He was going ahead of them. Just like He always had. Just like He still does.

For these women, the call was simple: “Come and see. Then go and tell.” That is the mission of every follower of Jesus. The resurrection isn’t meant to be admired—it’s meant to be proclaimed.

And they went. Not with polished speeches or planned outlines. They went trembling, amazed, overwhelmed. But they went.

Because when resurrection becomes real in your life, silence is not an option.

This is the burning call of every Christian. To go. To tell. To carry the message that shattered the tomb and changed the world. We are resurrection people. And we carry resurrection hope.

Go and Tell

Mark’s Gospel ends not with the reappearance of Jesus—but with the stunned obedience of those who were first entrusted with the news. Maybe that’s intentional. Because the baton has now been passed to us.

We live in a world that still feels like Saturday—stuck between despair and deliverance. But we are Sunday people. We’ve seen the tomb. We’ve heard the message. We know the Savior lives.

So the question is: what will we do with the news?

Will we carry spices to a sealed tomb—or will we carry the good news of an open grave?

Will we live like Jesus is buried or like He’s alive?

Friend, if you’ve never come face-to-face with the risen Christ, today is the day. The empty tomb is not just a historical claim—it’s an invitation. Come and see the One who died for you, who rose again, and who offers forgiveness and new life.

And for those who already know Him—the challenge is simple and life-altering:

Go and tell.