By Rev. Todd R. Lattig[i]
Read Mark 16:1–8
ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“I will not die; instead, I will live to tell what the LORD has done.” (Psalm 118:17 NLT)
Altars reveal what we worship. Some are obvious—raised platforms of stone and flame. Others are quieter, constructed in systems, reputations, loyalties, and assumptions. Lent is a season of holy examination. It calls us to look closely at what we have built, what we defend, and what we trust. In this series, we conduct an audit—not of budgets or buildings, but of allegiances. Lent strips away every false altar until only Christ remains.
It begins in the quiet aftermath of certainty. The stone has been set. The tomb has been sealed. The system has done its work, and everything appears exactly as it should be. Death has the final word—or so it seems.
Some women come to the tomb carrying spices, not expectation. They are not looking for resurrection, but preparing for burial. Even now, they are moving within the logic of what has already been decided.
And then everything breaks.
The stone is already rolled away. The body is not where it should be. A message is given—clear, direct, impossible to misunderstand. He is not here. He has been raised. And yet, the response is not triumph. It is fear.
They said nothing… because they were afraid.
This is where Mark ends. No appearances. No resolution. No restored certainty. Just an empty tomb, a message that disrupts everything, and witnesses who cannot yet bring themselves to speak.
Because resurrection does not arrive as comfort. It arrives as disruption.
It breaks the certainty that death had secured. It refuses the finality that systems had enforced. It does not fit within expectation, control, or explanation. It does not settle neatly into belief. It unsettles it.
The altar was set. The stone was sealed. And still… it did not hold.
This is the reversal of everything that came before. On Friday, violence was justified through process. On Saturday, certainty settled through silence. And on Sunday, both are undone—not through force, not through argument, but through something no system could anticipate or contain.
Life where death had been declared final. And yet, even here, the story does not resolve cleanly.
Because the first witnesses do not proclaim it. They do not run forward with clarity and conviction. They run in fear, carrying the weight of something they do not yet understand. The truth has been revealed, but it has not yet been integrated.
And if we are honest, we recognize this too.
We want resurrection to feel like certainty restored. We want clarity, assurance, and resolution. We want something we can name, explain, and hold onto without tension.
But that is not how Mark tells it.
Resurrection does not erase mystery. It deepens it. It does not give control back. It removes it. It does not answer every question. It creates new ones.
And it asks something of us.
Not immediate understanding. Not perfect belief. Not even certainty.
Presence.
Because the question Easter leaves us with is not simply whether Christ is risen. It is what we will do in response to a truth that disrupts everything we thought was final.
The women ran. They said nothing, because they were afraid. And the story does not tell us what happens next.
Which means the silence is not the end. It is the space where we are now standing.
THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Resurrection does not restore certainty—it disrupts it.PRAYER
God, meet us in the places where resurrection unsettles more than it comforts. When we are faced with what we do not understand, give us courage to remain present. When fear holds our voice, stay with us in the silence. And when new life breaks through what we thought was final, lead us forward—not with certainty, but with trust. Amen.
Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of ChatGPT (OpenAI).