April 8th, 2026
by Brandon Murphy
by Brandon Murphy
Why Are You Crying? Finding Hope in the Resurrection
In a world obsessed with instant answers—where Google, Wikipedia, and AI chatbots stand ready to solve our every question—we've forgotten something profound: the most important moments in life don't come from answers. They come from questions.
Questions stop us in our tracks. They expose what we've been avoiding. They open doors we didn't know existed. And sometimes, one strategic question can change everything.
When we think of Jesus, we often picture Him as the one with all the answers. Yet throughout the Gospels, something surprising emerges: Jesus asks more questions than He gives answers. He doesn't do this because He lacks knowledge—He asks because questions create conversation, build relationships, and help people discover truths about themselves, about God, and about what He's doing in their lives.
His questions don't live on the surface. They shoot straight to the heart.
The Garden Encounter
Early on that first Easter morning, while darkness still clung to the sky, a woman named Mary Magdalene made her way to the tomb where Jesus had been laid. Mary had profound reasons for being there. Jesus had once set her free from demons that possessed her, giving her worth and value when society had stripped both away. She had become a devoted follower because He had cared enough to heal her.
But when she arrived at the tomb, the stone had been rolled away. Assuming grave robbers had stolen Jesus' body, she ran to get Peter and John. Both disciples bolted to the tomb, looked inside, saw the grave clothes lying there, and then—inexplicably—they just left. They left Mary standing there, crying.
Who does that? They didn't discuss what they'd seen. They didn't try to comfort her in her sorrow, confusion, or pain. They simply walked away.
So Mary decided to look inside the tomb herself. When she did, she saw two angels dressed in white, sitting where Jesus' body should have been. These celestial messengers had one of the coolest jobs in all of Scripture—they were witnesses to the resurrection of the Son of God.
And they asked her a question: "Dear woman, why are you crying?"
"Because they've taken away my Lord," she replied, "and I don't know where they've put him."
The angels knew why she was crying. But they wanted Mary to have this moment to process her grief out loud. They also knew something she didn't—who was standing behind her.
A Name Spoken in Love
Still weeping, Mary turned around and saw someone she didn't recognize. Through her tears, through her pain, through her shattered hopes, she couldn't see that it was Jesus standing before her.
Jesus asked her the same question: "Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you're looking for?"
Notice what Jesus didn't say. He didn't tell her to stop crying or threaten to give her something to cry about. He didn't dismiss her emotions or demand she pull herself together. He simply asked: "Why are you crying?"
Fresh out of the grave, the resurrected Savior could have paraded through the streets of Jerusalem. He could have confronted Pilate or the high priest. He could have shouted His victory from the mountaintops. Instead, the first person Jesus appeared to was a woman standing before Him without hope.
And He took time to ask her a question. Because He cared.
Mary, thinking He was the gardener, said through her tears, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him."
Then Jesus spoke one word: "Mary."
To bring her out of her downcast state, Jesus spoke her name. How easy it is when we're struggling with emotions to just look down, to become downcast, to want to be unseen and hide from the world. But Jesus gently, powerfully drew her out of that downward spiral and drew her right into Him.
The moment He spoke her name, she recognized Him. "Rabboni!" she cried out, grabbing hold of Him.
You Are Known
We might be tempted to think, "Well, of course He spoke her name—He knew her. They were friends. But God doesn't know me like that."
But listen to what the prophet Isaiah tells us: "Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name. You are mine" (Isaiah 43:1).
God created you. God formed you. God ransomed you. And God calls you by name.
He goes even further: "See, I have written your name on the palms of my hand" (Isaiah 49:16). You mean that much to God that you're never out of His sight, never out of His mind. Your name is engraved in the palm of His hand.
King David understood this intimacy with God. He wrote: "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book" (Psalm 56:8-9).
God has kept track of your every toss and turn. He has taken note of every tear and every ache. That's the kind of God we have—one who sees your struggle, hears your cries, understands your pain, and knows your name.
A Mission Beyond Grief
Jesus met Mary right where she was. He loved her enough to ask why she was crying and cared enough to hear the answer. He spoke her name. He breathed life back into someone whose pain had left them lifeless, hope into someone whose sorrow had left them hopeless, light into someone whose grief had left them in darkness.
But Jesus wasn't just there to comfort Mary. He had a mission—and so did she.
"Do not hold on to me," He told her, "for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'"
Mary may have wanted to return to what she had just days before—laughing with Jesus, hanging out with Him. But Jesus gave her a job to do. And she couldn't fulfill that mission if she wasn't willing to let go.
Jesus made a woman the first person to share the good news of His resurrection. "You go tell my brothers," He said. There's more to this story. This is not the end.
Mary did exactly what Jesus asked. She found the disciples—the ones who had deserted Him, who had fled—and declared: "I have seen the Lord!"
A Time for Everything
Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes: "There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens... A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance" (Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4).
There is a time to weep. There is a time to mourn. Jesus honors that time of sadness. But He does not leave us there.
Jesus did not leave Mary in her state of sadness. He gave her a reason to hope, a reason to celebrate.
Like Mary at the tomb, we may think all is lost. But the risen Savior stands nearer to us than we realize.
Why Are You Crying?
If Jesus asked you today, "Why are you crying? What are you struggling with? What has you so down?"—what would you say?
When Jesus gently asks us why we're crying, He's inviting us to look deeper. Not deeper into what we've lost or the pain we're experiencing, but deeper at where we're placing our hope.
The same Jesus who stood face to face with Mary stands before us now, offering hope, healing, and new life. He is the way, the truth, and the life. He has conquered the grave and given us hope.
There is a time to weep. There is a time to mourn. But because of the new life and hope we have in Jesus, there is also a time to laugh and dance and celebrate.
The resurrected Jesus is our living hope. And that, friends, is very good news indeed.
In a world obsessed with instant answers—where Google, Wikipedia, and AI chatbots stand ready to solve our every question—we've forgotten something profound: the most important moments in life don't come from answers. They come from questions.
Questions stop us in our tracks. They expose what we've been avoiding. They open doors we didn't know existed. And sometimes, one strategic question can change everything.
When we think of Jesus, we often picture Him as the one with all the answers. Yet throughout the Gospels, something surprising emerges: Jesus asks more questions than He gives answers. He doesn't do this because He lacks knowledge—He asks because questions create conversation, build relationships, and help people discover truths about themselves, about God, and about what He's doing in their lives.
His questions don't live on the surface. They shoot straight to the heart.
The Garden Encounter
Early on that first Easter morning, while darkness still clung to the sky, a woman named Mary Magdalene made her way to the tomb where Jesus had been laid. Mary had profound reasons for being there. Jesus had once set her free from demons that possessed her, giving her worth and value when society had stripped both away. She had become a devoted follower because He had cared enough to heal her.
But when she arrived at the tomb, the stone had been rolled away. Assuming grave robbers had stolen Jesus' body, she ran to get Peter and John. Both disciples bolted to the tomb, looked inside, saw the grave clothes lying there, and then—inexplicably—they just left. They left Mary standing there, crying.
Who does that? They didn't discuss what they'd seen. They didn't try to comfort her in her sorrow, confusion, or pain. They simply walked away.
So Mary decided to look inside the tomb herself. When she did, she saw two angels dressed in white, sitting where Jesus' body should have been. These celestial messengers had one of the coolest jobs in all of Scripture—they were witnesses to the resurrection of the Son of God.
And they asked her a question: "Dear woman, why are you crying?"
"Because they've taken away my Lord," she replied, "and I don't know where they've put him."
The angels knew why she was crying. But they wanted Mary to have this moment to process her grief out loud. They also knew something she didn't—who was standing behind her.
A Name Spoken in Love
Still weeping, Mary turned around and saw someone she didn't recognize. Through her tears, through her pain, through her shattered hopes, she couldn't see that it was Jesus standing before her.
Jesus asked her the same question: "Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you're looking for?"
Notice what Jesus didn't say. He didn't tell her to stop crying or threaten to give her something to cry about. He didn't dismiss her emotions or demand she pull herself together. He simply asked: "Why are you crying?"
Fresh out of the grave, the resurrected Savior could have paraded through the streets of Jerusalem. He could have confronted Pilate or the high priest. He could have shouted His victory from the mountaintops. Instead, the first person Jesus appeared to was a woman standing before Him without hope.
And He took time to ask her a question. Because He cared.
Mary, thinking He was the gardener, said through her tears, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him."
Then Jesus spoke one word: "Mary."
To bring her out of her downcast state, Jesus spoke her name. How easy it is when we're struggling with emotions to just look down, to become downcast, to want to be unseen and hide from the world. But Jesus gently, powerfully drew her out of that downward spiral and drew her right into Him.
The moment He spoke her name, she recognized Him. "Rabboni!" she cried out, grabbing hold of Him.
You Are Known
We might be tempted to think, "Well, of course He spoke her name—He knew her. They were friends. But God doesn't know me like that."
But listen to what the prophet Isaiah tells us: "Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name. You are mine" (Isaiah 43:1).
God created you. God formed you. God ransomed you. And God calls you by name.
He goes even further: "See, I have written your name on the palms of my hand" (Isaiah 49:16). You mean that much to God that you're never out of His sight, never out of His mind. Your name is engraved in the palm of His hand.
King David understood this intimacy with God. He wrote: "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book" (Psalm 56:8-9).
God has kept track of your every toss and turn. He has taken note of every tear and every ache. That's the kind of God we have—one who sees your struggle, hears your cries, understands your pain, and knows your name.
A Mission Beyond Grief
Jesus met Mary right where she was. He loved her enough to ask why she was crying and cared enough to hear the answer. He spoke her name. He breathed life back into someone whose pain had left them lifeless, hope into someone whose sorrow had left them hopeless, light into someone whose grief had left them in darkness.
But Jesus wasn't just there to comfort Mary. He had a mission—and so did she.
"Do not hold on to me," He told her, "for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'"
Mary may have wanted to return to what she had just days before—laughing with Jesus, hanging out with Him. But Jesus gave her a job to do. And she couldn't fulfill that mission if she wasn't willing to let go.
Jesus made a woman the first person to share the good news of His resurrection. "You go tell my brothers," He said. There's more to this story. This is not the end.
Mary did exactly what Jesus asked. She found the disciples—the ones who had deserted Him, who had fled—and declared: "I have seen the Lord!"
A Time for Everything
Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes: "There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens... A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance" (Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4).
There is a time to weep. There is a time to mourn. Jesus honors that time of sadness. But He does not leave us there.
Jesus did not leave Mary in her state of sadness. He gave her a reason to hope, a reason to celebrate.
Like Mary at the tomb, we may think all is lost. But the risen Savior stands nearer to us than we realize.
Why Are You Crying?
If Jesus asked you today, "Why are you crying? What are you struggling with? What has you so down?"—what would you say?
When Jesus gently asks us why we're crying, He's inviting us to look deeper. Not deeper into what we've lost or the pain we're experiencing, but deeper at where we're placing our hope.
The same Jesus who stood face to face with Mary stands before us now, offering hope, healing, and new life. He is the way, the truth, and the life. He has conquered the grave and given us hope.
There is a time to weep. There is a time to mourn. But because of the new life and hope we have in Jesus, there is also a time to laugh and dance and celebrate.
The resurrected Jesus is our living hope. And that, friends, is very good news indeed.
Brandon Murphy
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