The Resurrection at Dawn. (Sunrise Message)

Matthew 28:1–10 “Now after the Sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. 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. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. And for fear of him the guards trembled and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and behold, he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him. See, I have told you.” So they departed quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. And behold, Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came up and took hold of his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.””

Years ago, a man stood beside the hospital bed of his wife just before sunrise. She was in a coma after a serious accident. Doctors had done all they could, and the night had been long and heavy. He kept praying, but if he was honest, he didn’t feel much faith left—only love and exhaustion.

As the first light of morning began to slip through the blinds, he whispered one more simple prayer: “God, I don’t even know what to ask anymore. Just be here.” Moments later, he saw her hand move—just a small twitch of her fingers. Then her eyes opened. The situation didn’t instantly become easy, and there was a long road of recovery ahead, but in that thin, gray moment between night and day, something changed: what felt completely over ….. wasn’t over.

Sunrise did not erase the pain of the night—but it revealed that God had been working where no one could see.

That’s what we find in Matthew 28.

The women walk to the tomb in the half-light of morning, convinced the story is finished.

Yet just like that hospital room, God is already moving stones, already turning what looks final into a new beginning.

The story of the resurrection begins in the gray light of early morning. “At dawn on the first day of the week…” (Matthew 28:1)

The Sabbath is over.

The long, dark silence after the cross has stretched on all through Saturday. Hope seems buried. Promises feel broken.

And yet, two women still go to the tomb.

They don’t go expecting a miracle; they go expecting a body.

They carry grief, not faith that feels strong and shining.

But they go to where they last saw Jesus.

They go in love, in loyalty, in pain.

Many of us arrive at a sunrise service like that.

We show up with complicated hearts—

… some struggling in their faith,

… some battling doubt,

… some dealing with disappointment,

… some are dealing a weariness.

Maybe we, too, are carrying things that feel dead:

- A relationship that has grown cold

- A prayer that seems unanswered

- A dream that feels like it’s over

- A part of our own heart that has gone numb

But Matthew tells us: “while it is still early, while it still feels dark, God is already at work.”

The women feel the ground shake. The stone is rolled away—not by them, but by God.

The obstacle they could never move on their own is lifted by heaven’s power.

They hear the angel say the words that change human history:

> “Do not be afraid… He is not here, for He has risen, as He said.” (Matthew 28:5–6)

Notice that:

- God doesn’t scold them for coming in grief.

- He doesn’t wait until their faith is perfect.

- He meets them in their sorrow, and the first command of Easter is not “Do better,” but **“Do not be afraid.”**

Then the angel gives them something healing and practical to do:

1. **“Come, see the place where He lay.”**

Face the reality: the grave is empty.

Jesus truly is alive.

This isn’t wishful thinking; it’s a solid fact.

Our faith rests on something real.

2. **“Then go quickly and tell His disciples.”**

Take what you have just seen and go share it.

There is purpose again.

There is a reason to move, to speak, to live.

On their way, something even more tender happens:

> “And behold, Jesus met them and said, ‘Greetings!’ … Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers…’” (Matthew 28:9–10)

They fall at His feet, hold onto Him, and worship.

The One they thought they had lost forever calls His failing disciples “my brothers.”

The risen Jesus comes with forgiveness, not shame; with welcome, not rejection.

For us, at sunrise, this passage holds out three simple, emotional truths:

1. Your darkest night is not your final chapter.

Saturday felt endless for the disciples.

But God was not absent;

He was accomplishing salvation in a way they couldn’t see.

If you are in a “Saturday” season—waiting, hurting, not understanding—Easter promises that God writes beyond the last line you can see.

2. You are loved even in your confusion and weakness.

The first witnesses of the resurrection are grieving women, not heroes of faith.

The first word to them is not condemnation, but comfort: “Do not be afraid.”

Jesus still meets us here—before we have our lives sorted out, before every question is answered.

3. Resurrection gives you both comfort and calling.

Comfort: Death, sin, and despair do not win.

There is a living Savior who knows your name.

Calling: “Go and tell…” Your story, your scars, your small steps of faith—God can use them to carry hope to others.

As the sun rises, this scene at the empty tomb invites you to a simple response:

- Bring your grief, your disappointment, and your fears to God.

- Hear again the words: “Do not be afraid. He is risen.”

- Ask Him: “Lord Jesus, meet me on this road today…..

…. Let Your risen life touch the places in me that feel dead, and send me out with a quiet, steady hope.”

The stone was rolled away at dawn—not so Jesus could get out, but so we could look in and see:

The worst thing is not the last thing.

The story is not over.

He is risen.