Sunday: The Stone Didn’t Stand a Chance.
It’s Sunday.
The silence has shattered.
The grave gave back what it never owned.
And I can feel it –
In the cracks of my soul where grief tried to settle.
In the places I thought were too far gone.
In the echoes of every “It is finished” that now sing,
“He is risen.”
The stone didn’t stand a chance.
Not against the Word that spoke galaxies into being.
Not against the blood that broke every curse.
Not against the love that went lower than death
Just to raise me higher.
Sunday didn’t come gently –
it came powerfully.
It came like morning after the longest night.
Like breath after the drowning.
Like mercy after shame.
And I don’t just celebrate a moment in history –
I live inside its power.
The resurrection is not a story I tell –
it’s the life that I live.
The reason I rise.
The reason I dare to believe again.
Jesus got up –
and because He did,
So can I.
So can you.
The grave couldn’t hold Him.
And it can’t hold you either.
Not your failure.
Not your fear.
Not even your past.
He walked out—so we could run free.
Today, the empty tomb is wide open.
And I’m walking through it with praise on my tongue,
and fire in my bones.
Sunday changed everything.
