Where There’s Blayze

Based on John 20:1–18

There are some moments in history so profound, so pivotal, that everything before them leads to them, and everything after is shaped by them. The resurrection of Jesus is one of those moments. In fact, it is that moment.

In John 20, we find ourselves at the tomb on the first Easter morning. Mary Magdalene arrives early, while it’s still dark, and sees that the stone has been rolled away. What’s her first thought? “Hallelujah, He is risen”? Not even close. Her reaction is far more… human. Far more logical.

She runs to Peter and the beloved disciple (most agree this is John), exclaiming, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him” (John 20:2). Notice she doesn’t even check inside. Why would she? Her common sense tells her all she needs to know: the stone is gone, the body must be too.

Let’s not judge her too harshly, her reasoning was rational. After all, grave robbing wasn’t unheard of. The Romans or the Sanhedrin had plenty of motive. And under Mosaic Law, coming into contact with a dead body meant becoming ritually unclean (Numbers 19:11), so why risk it?

So she goes to get backup.

Racing to the Tomb

Peter and John take off sprinting. John tells us (somewhat smugly) that he got there first. Typical. But notice this, no one is assuming resurrection yet. Because let’s face it: when someone dies, common sense says they tend to stay dead.

Even when John peeks in and Peter storms right into the tomb, they’re expecting to find a stolen body, not an empty cocoon of linen cloths. But then something strange happens: John sees… and believes (John 20:8).

What did he see?

Common Sense & Folded Linens

Let’s pause here for a moment. Because this is where common sense takes a bit of a turn. If we define common sense (as Thomas Reid did) as “the basic ability to perceive, understand, and judge things shared by most people,” then what John saw triggered something primal and obvious.

What he saw were the linen burial cloths, lying exactly where Jesus had been laid, not in a mess on the floor, not dragged off with the body, but neatly lying there. And the face cloth? Folded. Placed separately (John 20:6–7).

This, friends, is where my inner detective meets my inner theologian and they both nod in agreement: this is weird.

Let’s think through this logically. Suppose grave robbers had stolen Jesus’ body. Would they stop to unwrap it first? Would they take the time to fold the face cloth? This is not how robberies work. No one breaks into your house, steals your TV, but first stops to vacuum, make your bed, and fluff the cushions.

So what makes more sense?

That something miraculous happened. That Jesus passed through the linen cloths as if He no longer needed to be bound by them. That He folded the face cloth not out of necessity but as a sign: “I’m done here. Death, you don’t own me.”

Speaking of Common Sense…

Now, common sense used to mean something. But in our modern world, I’m not always sure. Have you noticed how many warning labels exist because someone, somewhere, lacked common sense?

Let me share just a few I’ve personally collected:

• A shower at Butlins had a sign: “Floor may be slippery when wet.” Really? That’s what wet means!
• A hairdryer: “Do not use in shower.” Who was doing this? Who thought, “Two birds, one stone”?
• A coat hanger labeled: “Harmful if swallowed.” What??
• A scooter box: “This product moves when used.” I should hope so!
• An iron: “Do not iron clothes while wearing them.” I want to meet the person this was aimed at.
• A pram instruction: “Remove child before folding.” IKEA, but make it morbid.
• Peanut butter: “May contain peanuts.” May?

And the most horrifying of all: a toilet brush that read, “Not for personal hygiene.” I can’t even. Whoever this was, I pray for you nightly.

I jest, but these labels exist because someone didn’t engage common sense. And maybe that’s what makes John’s reaction so refreshing—he sees the cloths and believes. He uses his head. He trusts what he sees.

When Grace Defies Logic

And yet the most moving part of this passage isn’t Peter or John. It’s Mary.

Left alone outside the tomb, sobbing, wailing (the Greek word implies deep, loud mourning), she’s forgotten in the disciples’ rush to spread the news. Common sense might tell us that Jesus, freshly resurrected, would go first to the leaders, those responsible for spreading the gospel and starting the church.

But grace doesn’t always follow logic.

Jesus comes to Mary first.

This is the same Mary He cast seven demons out of (Luke 8:2), the one who supported His ministry, who stood at the cross, who now mourns deeply at the tomb. Jesus had once said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5:4). Here He proves it. He doesn’t just comfort her with words, He appears to her in person.

Mary becomes the first witness to the resurrection. The first evangelist. The first person to be told, “Go and tell.”

That’s not common sense. That’s grace.

So… What Do We Do With This?

The resurrection isn’t irrational. It’s not some wild leap in the dark. It is, when all is said and done, common sense, the only explanation that fits the facts.

• An empty tomb.
• A stone rolled away.
• Grave cloths lying there, undisturbed.
• A face cloth, folded neatly.
• Eyewitnesses who go from fear to boldness.
• A faith that has shaped the course of history.

It’s not just something we proclaim liturgically—“Christ is risen!”—though we should. It’s not just something we remember on Easter Sunday. It’s something that, if we stop long enough to look at the evidence, makes perfect sense.

So today, may we see what John saw.

May we believe.

And may we remember that the grace of the risen Jesus always comes, not just to the powerful, but to the mourning, the overlooked, and the seeking.

Because He is risen indeed.