On Easter, I did a children’s sermon with a wrapped Christmas present.
It looks great on the outside — colorful paper, a big bow, the whole thing. Kids’ eyes light up when they see it. And then someone opened it, and the excitement drained right out of the room.
It’s empty.
For a split second, there’s this collective disappointment. You can see it on their faces. That’s it? There’s nothing there?
And that’s exactly the moment I’ve been waiting for.
We Know That Feeling
If we’re honest, that’s not so different from how the women felt walking to the tomb that first Easter morning.
They weren’t going to a celebration. They were going to grieve. They were carrying spices to anoint a body — the body of the man they had followed, believed in, and watched die in the most brutal way imaginable. The stone. The guards. The finality of it all.
And then — nothing. An empty tomb. An angel with the audacity to ask, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”
Luke 24:6 captures the whole message in seven words: “He is not here; He has risen.”
Empty. But not the way they feared.
Empty Can Be the Best News
We live in a world that’s afraid of empty.
Empty bank accounts. Empty relationships. Empty purpose. We fill our lives with noise, schedules, and distractions because sitting with emptiness feels too much like loss.
But Easter flips that entirely.
The empty tomb is not a sign that something went wrong. It’s the proof that everything went exactly right. Death — the thing we fear most, the final word on every human story — didn’t get the last word. Jesus walked out.
And because He did, every other “empty” in your life gets reframed.
What the Empty Tomb Says to You
If you’re sitting with an “empty” that’s heavy right now — a season that didn’t go the way you planned, a relationship that fell apart, a dream that feels buried — Easter isn’t asking you to pretend it doesn’t hurt.
It’s asking you to consider that empty isn’t always the end of the story.
The disciples didn’t understand it at first either. They ran. They doubted. Peter went back to fishing. The resurrection didn’t immediately make everything make sense — but it changed everything about what was possible.
That’s still true today.
The Surprise Is for You Too
When I tell kids that the empty box is actually the best news, I watch something shift in them. Confusion gives way to curiosity, and then to joy.
That’s Easter.
Not a holiday we observe from a safe distance, but a surprise we’re invited into. Not just a historical event to acknowledge, but a living reality to inhabit.
He is not here. He has risen.
Say it out loud if you need to. Let it be more than a liturgical response this year. Let it be the thing that reframes your empty places — and reminds you that the God who conquered death is not finished with your story.
That’s the best surprise ever.
Want to go deeper this Easter season? Explore more leadership reflections at perfectlyflawedleadership.com.
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