If the Tomb Is Empty

So there I was…

(That’s how I start every good story.)

Standing on the Mount of Olives. The Garden of Gethsemane below me, my favorite place on the planet to pray. The tips of the ancient olive trees rising up above the walls. Directly in front of me stands the Golden (or Beautiful) Gate, sealed shut since the Crusaders lost the city a thousand years ago. Some silly religious folks think that the stone and mortar will keep Christ the King from entering the city upon His return. To my right, the Lions’ Gate. Some think Stephen was dragged through that gate and stoned in the valley below me. To my left spreads the City of David, an archaeological playland these days. In my mind, I imagine the rooftop upon which David spied Bathsheba. It’s easy to see as you walk around how power and this perspective could get a man in serious trouble. Below the garden, the brook Kidron snakes through the valley that, since the days of Josiah, has been the most famous burial site around. Tens upon tens of thousands of graves spread left to right as far as the eye can see, buried here beneath the towering shadow of Hezekiah’s eastern wall. And there, beyond the wall, sitting on the hill, rise the Temple Mount and the Old City of Jerusalem.

This is THE mountain of God.

The place where His name is written forever. Even the aerial view of the three valleys out of which the mountain rises looks like the twenty-second letter of the Hebrew alphabet (“shin”) that spells His name. This is the place where Abram broke bread with Melchizedek after the battle with the four kings and raised his hand in covenant with God Most High. And later in his life, this is the place where he bound his son Isaac, the son of his love, placed him on an altar, and raised a knife to kill him. This is where David danced as he brought the ark into Jerusalem, telling Michal, I will become even more undignified than this. Singing what we call Psalm 24: “Lift up your heads, O gates! And lift them up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The LORD of Hosts, he is the King of glory.”

This is the place where the plague stopped at the threshing floor of Ornan the Jebusite, where Nathan told David, You are the man and David paid the penalty for his sin. This is where both good and bad kings ruled and Solomon built a temple unequaled in all human history. Where Hezekiah and Nehemiah rebuilt the walls, Josiah tore down the high places, and the conquering Babylonians led a nation into captivity, leaving this city in ruins.

And this is the place where Jesus showed up as a twelve-year-old boy and taught in the temple, saying, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” This is where He walked, taught, healed, laughed, loved, drove out the tax gatherers, broke bread, and taught us to pray.

On this mountain, Jesus paraded in on a donkey while crowds shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” Hosanna means “Lord, save us.” The us was priority to that crowd. This is the place where if those people fell silent, even the rocks would cry out. And it is here that Jesus wept. Because He knew what was coming.

On this mountain, Jesus’ blood vessels burst, His sweat turned to blood, and He took the first sip of the Father’s cup of wrath as one of His best friends betrayed Him with a kiss. Where self-righteous and jealous murderers arrested Him and paraded Him before a kangaroo court, where they struck Him in the face, plucked out His beard, beat Him with rods, and ripped chunks of flesh off His back and sides with a cat-o’-nine-tails. Here they drove a crown of thorns into His skull, the same type of tree from which the ark of the covenant was constructed, and then forced Him to carry a criminal’s cross outside the gate where they burn the trash.

Here on these Herodian stones, Jesus became unrecognizable as a man.

Just a few hundred yards from where I now stand, in what is today a busy bus station, they drove nails through His hands and feet and hung Him on a cross on a well-traveled road where people spat and laughed, and a soldier shoved a spear into His chest.

This is the spot where the blood and water flowed.

Here the Father forsook Him, here the veil tore in two—and the people of God were no longer separated from the presence of God. Here the sky turned black in midday, and here, Jesus, the sinless, righteous, spotless Son of God, who did not think equality with God something to be grasped but willingly humbled Himself and came on a rescue mission for a bunch of rebels like us, poured out His soul to the death. The Lamb of God who has come to take away the sin of the entire world. Clearing forever our debt ledger. Paying a price you and I could not pay in ten thousand lifetimes.

This is the mountain where Jesus died. Where He painted the mercy seat with His very own blood. Where His brokenhearted friends, who had watched Him heal the sick and raise the dead, pulled His limp, cold, naked, shredded, bloodless, lifeless body down, and some brave soul closed His eyes. This is where they carried Him to a borrowed tomb, and the soldiers sealed Him behind heavy stone. This is where His friends wept and knew sorrow unlike any they’d ever known.

I would imagine that those who followed Jesus were incredulous as they stared at His lifeless body on the cross. I’m convinced they asked, “God, have You completely lost control? Can’t You see what’s going on down here?” Little did they know this was His plan to save the entire world. This is why the writer of Hebrews says, He upholds all things by the Word of His power. And this is why Paul tells the Romans, For those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose (8:28).

On this mountain, the Son of God was killed, and those who witnessed His death took His body down and laid it to rest in a tomb. They thought that was the end. Forever. All hope lost. Because once you’re dead, you’re dead. Who can defeat death?

But the story doesn’t end there. Not by a long shot.

Because this is where, three days later, He rose from the dead and walked out shining like the sun. Tomb empty. The keys of death and hell hanging from His belt. On this mountain, the tomb is empty.

Which changes everything. For everyone who would believe it. Forever.

This is where they intended to prepare the body only to find the stone rolled away, His body gone, and an angel asking, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?”

On this mountain, He alone did what no one else could. He bought us back. Redeemed us from the curse. And cut a new covenant based on better promises. This is the birthplace of hope.

Here, Mary screamed at the top of her lungs, I have seen the Lord! Here, Thomas believed. Here, to their great surprise, Jesus appeared when they were meeting behind locked doors, breathed on them the very ruach1 of God, and said, Receive Holy breath. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them.

This is where when they did not believe it was Him, He chastised them for their unbelief and hardness of heart. This is where He opened for them the Scriptures, explaining how everything that had been written before in the law, prophets, and psalms revealed Him, and how He alone is the perfect manifestation of that revelation.

And this is where He broke bread. Again.

This is where He appeared to over five hundred believers. In the very place where many saw Him crucified and dead. And somewhere not too far from where I now stand, He stepped onto the Father’s chariot and ascended to heaven—where He remains seated to this day.

Down there to my left, on the day of Pentecost, standing on the southern steps of the temple, Peter was used by God in a mighty way. He did not let his multiple past mistakes define him, but God used the very thing that got him in the most trouble—his mouth—and gave what might be the second-best sermon ever given. Second only to the one given on the Mount. And when he’d finished, the Spirit of God was poured out, fulfilling the Scriptures in Proverbs, Joel, Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Zechariah that promised, “I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh.” And on that day, here on this mountain, three thousand were added to the number.

This is that mountain.

And lastly, somewhere close to where I now stand, on a date known only by the Father, this mountain will split in two and Jesus will return as He left—to judge the quick and the dead. That’s you and me and all those who came before us.

The most significant history in the history of history occurred within a half mile of where I now stand. On this storied mountain. On this bloodstained hill. It is here that Jesus rendered an irrevocable, undeniable, and eternal defeat to satan. Here, in possibly the most illogical thing I’ve ever heard, the very Son of God gave you and me the right to become children of God. The Son of God became a man, that men and women could become sons and daughters of God. Transferring us from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of the Son of God’s love, and in so doing, took from us the spirit of slavery and in its place gave us the Spirit of sonship, teaching us to speak one of the most beautiful words ever spoken by human lips—“Abba.”

Today, when you stand on Calvary, you’re literally standing in one of the busiest bus stops on planet earth, which offends all our artistic sentimentalism. But as you sit there among the noise and horns and fumes and heat, you think, This may be a good picture of the Crucifixion, because it was a grimy place with people coming and going. Nothing about the Crucifixion of Jesus was picturesque. It was dirty and gross, because that’s what sin is, and yet God the Father chose this mountain upon which to crush it.

In stark contrast, if you walk out of the bus station some sixty-five steps to your left, you’re in the most peaceful place you’ve ever been in your entire life: a garden where they once crushed grapes. Off to one side of the garden, cut into a rock wall, is an empty tomb. I know. I’ve been there. Why does this matter? Because the Son of God was dead when they put Him there, and three days later, He walked out. He rose again and walked out of that stone grave. Alive. And He was seen by over five hundred people over the course of forty days. And right this second, the Son of God lives. While this mountain holds the tomb, the tomb couldn’t hold Him. (In all honesty, we don’t know for sure if this was His tomb or not, but I tend to think it was.)

The reason any of what I’m about to say matters is because that tomb is empty. Paul said, I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection (Phil. 3:10). Why? What’s the big deal?

The heart of Paul’s answer rests in this phrase: if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Think about the ramifications of that. Can anything be worse? Name one thing. You can’t. Now ask yourself the reverse: If Christ is alive, can anything be better?

You see that phrase made alive? Don’t miss it. He’s talking about us. The fact that Jesus walked out alive matters for everyone who would believe it. Forever. My question for you is this: If Christ is alive and the tomb is empty, what does this mean for you? Like, really? In total. What does the empty tomb mean for you? For me?

The answer tells a lot about you and what you believe. So, let me press you. This is a gut check. Do you live every day of your life as if the tomb is empty…or as though Jesus is still hanging on that cross?

Think before you answer.

Let me bring it closer to home. Here are some questions we’re going to work through in these pages:

1. Do you believe His promise to you?
2. Who tells you who you are: you…or Jesus?
3. Why are you still holding on to that idol?
4. Do you really want to be blessed?
5. How will you stand against the enemy?
6. Do you want to be healed?
7. What is finished?

If you believe that tomb on Calvary was empty, it should change how you answer these questions. Spoiler alert: the empty tomb changes everything, about everything, for everyone who would believe it.

In eternity past when God spoke, He made this mountain on which I now stand—Calvary. And for reasons only He knows, He said, “I already know what’s going to happen between this sea and this river, between this people and this people. But here, on this map dot of earth, I’m going to do a thing that’s never before been done and will never be done again. I’m going to drive an eternal stake in the ground and demonstrate, once and for all, the love of My Son, Jesus Christ.”

Calvary is the epicenter of the earth. All of life—past, present, future—revolves around this mountain.

This is the mountain of God. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and God’s Son, Jesus.

This mountain on which I’m standing is our destination. We’re coming back here. But to show why this mountain matters, we need to walk over six really important mountains in Scripture before we return here. Why? Because the events that occurred on those other mountains point to this one. They lay the groundwork and tell us the story of why this one matters.

So with that in mind, I want to start with Abraham and Isaac on Mount Moriah; then move to Moses and Mount Sinai; to Elijah on Mount Carmel; to Jesus on the Mount of Beatitudes; to Jesus tempted by satan on a very high mountain; to Peter, James, and John with Jesus, Moses, and Elijah on the Mount of Transfiguration; and finally return to the mountain where it all started, Calvary. I want to take a journey together up these seven storied mountains from the Scriptures. Specific mountains used by God for His purposes, because for some reason, God uses these mountains to manifest Himself.

Let’s pause and think about what a mountain looks like. It’s a high point, surrounded by shorter peaks and valleys. It’s a good picture of our lives. In between now and the day of Jesus’ return, you and I will stand on mountaintops, valleys, and countless hillsides in between. We will know unmatched joy and unrivaled sorrow. I can’t really tell you why. Only that we will. It seems like God demonstrates His glory on the mountaintop and His love and mercy in the valley. Maybe that’s why it’s only when we go up and down and up and down that we get a more complete picture of Him. We all love the peak, but the valley is usually not far behind. Plus, you can’t stay on the mountaintop. Nobody can. They’re small, and there’s no water. That’s in the valley. So are all the people. Funny how that works. And as much as we yearn for the mountaintop, truth is we spend most of our time either coming down, hiking up, or in the valley between.

No matter where you find yourself—whether you’re a new believer, a seasoned servant of the faith, or maybe you don’t know what you are—join me. Walk with me through the events that occurred on these seven mountains, because each one leads right back to the rock beneath our feet and then our final destination, which is just up that hill—the cross of Jesus Christ and the empty tomb—and what it means for you and me.

Because…if the tomb is empty, anything is possible.

Pray with Me