Was it a morning like this?
The kind where the light creeps in quiet… before anyone realizes the world just changed.
I’ve lived long enough to rack up regrets. I’ve made bad decisions, let people down, and I still cuss and drink more than some would say a Christian should. I’m not perfect. Not even close. But I’m real. And most days, that’s the best I can offer.
Still, that tomb was empty, and it remains the only one empty throughout history.
And every time I think about that morning—the stone rolled away, the silence, the light—I remember: grace didn’t wait for me to get it all together. It showed up anyway.
He walked out of that grave knowing exactly who I am. And He still calls me His.