By Pastor David Holland
When they came back from the tomb, they told all these things to the Eleven and to all the others. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the others with them who told this to the apostles. But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense. Peter, however, got up and ran to the tomb. Bending over, he saw the strips of linen lying by themselves, and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened.
—Luke 24:8–12
The women saw it first. Why don’t men listen to women?
They saw the empty tomb. They heard the angels. They stood at the threshold of a new age dawning upon the world. These women were the first witnesses to the most extraordinary event in human history—the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Yet when they told the apostles, the response was stunning. The men barely stirred.
Luke tells us the women’s words “seemed like nonsense” to them. The Greek word used here is leros—idle talk, empty chatter, irrational nonsense. The apostles dismissed their words as absurd.
They didn’t reject the women maliciously. They simply couldn’t believe. Swimming in the murky waters of depression, unbelief had quietly taken hold.
To be fair, resurrection would not have been my first conclusion either. An empty grave invites skepticism. A stolen body seems more reasonable. But Roman guards had been posted, and their very lives depended on doing their duty. And more importantly, Jesus had told them—clearly and repeatedly—that He would suffer, die, and rise again on the third day.
The angels reminded the women, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but He is risen!” Still, the disciples could not receive it.
Unbelief haunts us all.
Consider the Morales family. Every Sunday they gathered for dinner after church. The table was always set carefully—plates warmed, candles lit, and one extra chair tucked neatly at the end.
That chair was for Grandpa Luis.
Luis had once been a man of deep faith. He taught his grandchildren Scripture, prayed boldly, and sang hymns while washing dishes. But after losing his wife, something hardened within him.
“If God cared,” he would say quietly, “He wouldn’t have taken her.”
So, he stopped praying. Then he stopped coming to church. Eventually, he stopped coming to dinner.
The family never removed the chair.
Years passed. The grandchildren grew. The family spoke of faith less often. Prayer became shorter, cautious—almost apologetic. No one wanted to sound like Grandpa.
Then, one afternoon, Luis showed up unexpectedly. He stood in the doorway, smaller than they remembered. His eyes rested on the empty chair.
“You kept it,” he whispered.
His daughter nodded. “We always hoped.”
Tears streamed down his face. “I didn’t just walk away from God,” he said. “I walked away from all of you.”
Unbelief hadn’t protected him from pain. It had quietly cost him years of love, laughter, and belonging.
That is what unbelief does.
The disciples heard the women’s words, but they did not hear The Word: Christ is risen. They never paused to consider that Jesus meant exactly what He said—The Christ will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day.
Yet one man responded.
Peter didn’t believe fully—but he moved. Running to the tomb, he bent down and looked. Luke tells us Peter… went away, wondering to himself what had happened.
Wonder is not faith—but it is the crack in the door. Unbelief does not have the last word.
In the days ahead, we will see how Jesus Himself opens closed doors—how revelation births faith, and how the risen Savior steps into locked rooms and fearful hearts.
For now, the question remains: Will we dismiss the message as nonsense—or will we, like Peter, rise up and run?
Dave Holland pastored churches for 38 years before retiring in Destin. This devotional is from his soon to be released book, “Easter Jesus.” You can get a copy of his books from his website, DaveHolland.org, or at Amazon.com. Pastor Dave is available to preach and teach at churches and conferences. Contact him at DavidvHolland54@gmail.com.
