John 20:11 - Meaning and Application

Mark tells us that Christ first appeared to Mary Magdalene (Mark 16:9), and this passage mainly describes that meeting. Here we see, first, Mary Magdalene’s steady and strong love for the Lord Jesus (John 20:11).

She stayed at the tomb after Peter and John had left, because that was where her Master had been laid. It was also the place where she was most likely to hear something about him. Where there is true love for Christ, there will be a faithful holding close to him, with a heart set on cleaving to him. Even though she had lost him, she would not seem to abandon him. She would stay by his grave for his sake and keep loving him, even while she lacked the comfort of his presence.

Where there is a true desire to know Christ, there will also be steady attendance on the means of knowing him. See Hosea 6:2, Hosea 6:3. When the third day comes, he will raise us up, and then we will understand the meaning of that resurrection if we keep pressing on to know him, as Mary did here.

She stayed there weeping, and her tears plainly showed her love for her Master. Those who have lost Christ have reason to weep. She wept as she remembered his bitter suffering. She wept over his death, and over the loss that she, her friends, and the whole country had suffered. She wept because she had to go home without him. She wept because she could not find his body.

Those who seek Christ must seek him with sorrow, as Mary and Joseph did when they found him in the temple (Luke 2:48). They must weep, not for him, but for themselves. As she wept, she looked into the tomb, letting what she saw affect her heart. When we are searching for something lost, we often look again and again at the place where we last left it. She was willing to look many times, hoping at last to find some encouragement.

Weeping must not stop us from seeking. Though she wept, she stooped down and looked in. Those who seek with affection, and seek with tears, are more likely to seek well and find.

Second, she saw two angels in the tomb (John 20:12). They were two angels in white, sitting, likely on stone ledges cut into the rock, one at the head and the other at the feet of the grave. They were angels, messengers from heaven, sent for this great moment. They came to honor the Son and to make his resurrection more glorious. Now that the Son of God was to be brought into the world again, angels were called to attend him, as they had done at his birth (Hebrews 1:6). They also came to comfort the saints, to speak kindly to those in sorrow, and to prepare them for the sight of the risen Lord.

There were two of them, not a great crowd of heaven’s army, because they were there as witnesses. Out of the mouth of two witnesses, this word would be confirmed. They were dressed in white, showing both their purity and their glory. The purest people on earth, when compared with angels, are like those in filthy clothes (Zech. 3:3), but angels are spotless. Glorified saints, when they are like the angels, will walk with Christ in white.

They sat in the tomb as if resting there in Christ’s grave, because even angels owed their standing and stability to him. Their presence in the tomb teaches us not to fear the grave, or to think that resting in it for a time will harm our immortality. In truth, the grave is not far from the way to heaven. It also points ahead to the work angels will do for the saints, not only at death, when they carry souls to Abraham’s bosom, but at the great day, when they will raise the bodies of God’s people (Matthew 24:31).

These angelic guards, and angels are called watchers (Daniel 4:23), kept possession of the tomb after frightening away the guards set there by Christ’s enemies. This shows Christ’s victory over the powers of darkness, routing and defeating them. Michael and his angels are more than conquerors. Their sitting with one at the head and the other at the feet also shows their care for Christ’s whole body, both his natural body and his mystical body, from head to foot. It may also remind us of the two cherubim placed at either end of the mercy seat, facing each other (Exodus 25:18). Christ crucified was the great place of mercy, and these two cherubim stood at its head and feet, not with flaming swords to keep us out, but as welcoming messengers to direct us to the way of life.

The angels then asked Mary with compassion why she was grieving (John 20:13): “Woman, why are you weeping?” This question rebuked her tears, because she had cause for joy, not sorrow. Many of our tears would dry up if we examined their source in this way. Why are you cast down? It also showed how much angels care about the grief of God’s people, since they are charged to serve them for their comfort. Christians should show the same care for one another.

The question was also meant to open the way for telling her what would turn her mourning into joy, take off her sackcloth, and clothe her with gladness. She answered with her present distress: they had taken away the blessed body she had come to care for, and she did not know where they had laid it. She had already said the same thing in John 20:2.

In her answer we see both the weakness of her faith and the strength of her love. If she had faith as small as a mustard seed, this mountain would have moved. We often trouble ourselves over imaginary problems, while faith would show us they are really blessings. Many godly people complain about the clouds and darkness they walk through, though these are often God’s way of humbling them, weakening their sin, and making Christ dearer to them.

Her love for Christ was strong. Those who truly love him cannot help being deeply distressed when they lose either the comforting signs of his love in their souls or the fitting chances to speak with him and honor him in his ordinances. Mary Magdalene was not distracted by the angels, nor satisfied with being honored by them. She kept returning to the same grief: They have taken away my Lord. A sight of angels and their kindness is not enough without a sight of Christ and God’s favor in him. Even the angels are only a means, and a secondary means, to bring us into fellowship with God in Christ.

The angels asked her, “Why are you weeping?” She had good reason to weep, she said, because “they have taken away my Lord.” Like Micah, she was saying, “What else do I have now?” When people ask, “Why are you crying?” she is saying, “My beloved has gone away.” Only those who have felt it know the grief of a soul that once had sweet signs of God’s love in Christ, hoped for heaven, and now has lost all that and walks in darkness. Such a wounded spirit is hard to bear (Proverbs 18:14).

Christ then appeared to her while she was speaking with the angels and telling them her trouble. Before the angels gave her any answer, Christ himself stepped in to meet her questions. God now speaks to us by his Son, and no one but Christ himself can lead us to himself. Mary longed to know where her Lord was, and in fact he was standing near her. Those who will settle for nothing less than a sight of Christ will be given nothing less. He never says to a soul that truly seeks him, “You will seek in vain.” If it is Christ you want, Christ you will have.

When Christ shows himself to those who seek him, he often gives more than they expected. Mary wanted to see the dead body of Christ and grieved over losing that body, but instead she saw him alive. That is how he deals with praying people, he does more than they can ask or think.

At first, Christ hid himself from her. He stood there like an ordinary man, and she looked at him that way (John 20:14). She was waiting for an answer from the angels, and then she turned from them and saw Jesus standing there, the very one she was looking for, yet she did not know it was Jesus. The Lord is near to those with a broken heart (Psalm 34:18), closer than they realize. Those who seek Christ, even when they do not see him, can be sure he is not far away. And those who truly seek the Lord keep turning every way, looking for some sign of him.

Some older writers think Mary turned because the angels rose and showed honor to the Lord Jesus, whom they saw before she did. If that were so, it is hard to see why she would have thought he was the gardener. It is more likely that her own earnest searching made her look around in every direction. Christ is often near his people, and they do not know it. She did not know it was Jesus. That may mean he looked ordinary to her, or that her eyes were so full of grief that she could not tell who he was. It may also mean, as with the two disciples, that they were kept from recognizing him (Luke 24:16).

Then he asked her a simple question, and she answered him in a simple way (John 20:15). The question was natural enough, the kind any person might ask: “Woman, why are you weeping? Who are you looking for? Why are you here in the garden so early? What is all this commotion about?” He may have spoken with some firmness, as Joseph did when he acted as though he did not know his brothers before revealing himself to them. This may have been the first word Christ spoke after his resurrection: “Why are you weeping? I am risen.” Christ’s resurrection is enough to calm our sorrows, stop our tears, and dry up their source.

Here Christ notices two things about his people. He asks about their grief, “Why are you weeping?” He keeps count of their tears and records them. He also asks about their search, “Who are you looking for?” and “What do you want?” Even when he already knows they are seeking him, he wants them to say it themselves.

Mary’s reply was natural enough, too. She did not answer him directly, as if to say, “Why are you mocking me and calling attention to my tears? You know why I am crying, and you know whom I am looking for.” Thinking he was the gardener, the man Joseph had hired to care for the garden, and assuming he had come early to work, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

Here we see the mistake in her understanding. She thought Jesus was the gardener, perhaps because he asked what right she had to be there. Troubled hearts, in a dark and cloudy time, often misunderstand Christ and misread the ways of his providence, that is, his wise care and rule over events, and his grace. We also see the truth of her love. Her heart was fixed on finding Christ. She asked everyone she met, like the seeking bride, “Have you seen him whom my soul loves?” She spoke respectfully to the gardener and called him “Sir,” hoping he might tell her something about her beloved. When she spoke of Christ, she did not even name him. She simply said, “If you have carried him away,” as if this gardener must surely know who she meant.

Her love was also strong because she said she would carry him away wherever he had been laid. A body like his, covered with spices, was far more than she could have lifted. But true love thinks it can do more than it really can, and it makes little of difficulties. She thought the gardener might resent the honor of having the body of one who was crucified in shame laid in his master’s new tomb, and so had moved it to some poor place he thought more fitting. Yet Mary does not threaten him or try to get him dismissed. She only offers to find another burial place where he would be welcome. Christ does not need to remain where people think of him as a burden.

At last Christ made himself known to her and, with a joyful surprise, gave her sure proof of his resurrection. Just as Joseph finally said to his brothers, “I am Joseph,” so Christ said to Mary Magdalene, now that he had entered his exalted state. He revealed himself to this good woman who was seeking him with tears (John 20:16). “Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’” He said it with special warmth and the same kindness and freedom he had always used with her. His voice changed, and now he spoke like himself, not like the gardener. Christ makes himself known to his people by his word, by speaking that word directly to their souls, and by addressing them personally. When those whom God knew by name in the plans of his love (Exodus 33:12) are called by name in the power of his grace, then he reveals his Son in them, as he did in Paul (Galatians 1:16). When Christ called to him by name, “Saul, Saul,” Paul knew him. Christ’s sheep know his voice (John 10:4). That one word, “Mary,” was like the words to the disciples in the storm, “It is I.”

Then Christ’s words do us good when we put our own names into his commands and promises. We can say, “In this, Christ is calling to me and speaking to me.”

She received this discovery quickly. When Christ said, “Mary, do you not know me? Have you and I become such strangers?” she soon knew who it was, like the bride in Song of Songs 2:8, “It is the voice of my beloved.” She turned and said, “Rabboni,” which means “My Master.” It could even be read as a question, “Rabboni? Is it my Master? Surely it is!”

Notice, first, the respectful title she gives him, “My Master,” a teacher. The Jews called their teachers rabbis, meaning great men. Their experts say that “Rabbon” was an even higher title than “Rabbi,” so Mary chooses that and adds her own word of belonging, “My great Master.” Even though Christ allows us close fellowship with himself, we must still remember that he is our Master and approach him with holy fear.

Second, notice how full of love she speaks this title. She turned from the angels she had been looking at and fixed her eyes on Jesus. We must take our attention away from all created things, even the brightest and best, and set it on Christ alone. Nothing should pull us away from him or come between us and him. When she thought he was the gardener, she looked another way while speaking to him. But now that she knew Christ’s voice, she turned toward him. The soul that hears Christ and turns to him says with joy, “My Master,” and “my great Master.”

See how gladly those who love Christ speak of his authority over them. “My Master, my great Master.”

Christ then gave her further instruction, as in John 10:17, “Do not hold on to me, but go and tell the disciples.” First, he turns her away from expecting close physical company with him at that moment. “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended.” Mary was so overwhelmed by seeing her beloved Master that she forgot both herself and the glory he was now entering. She was ready to show her joy with affectionate embraces, but Christ stops her for now.

He means, in effect, “Do not cling to me as if I were staying here in the same way forever, for I am going to ascend to heaven.” He had told the disciples to touch him, to strengthen their faith, and he allowed the women to hold his feet and worship him (Matthew 28:9). But Mary seemed to think he had risen like Lazarus, to live among them as before. On that idea, she was ready to take hold of him with her old freedom. Christ corrects her mistake. She must believe in him and honor him as exalted, but she must not expect the same familiar presence she knew before. See 2 Corinthians 5:16.

He keeps her from setting her heart on his bodily presence or expecting it to continue. Instead, he leads her toward the spiritual fellowship she would have with him after he ascended to the Father. The greatest joy of his resurrection was that it was a step toward his ascension. Mary thought that now her Master had risen, he would soon set up an earthly kingdom, as they had long hoped. “No,” says Christ, “do not try to hold me here with such thoughts. Do not think you can detain me. I have not yet ascended, but go tell my brethren that I am to ascend.” Before his death and after his resurrection, he keeps stressing that he is going away and will no longer remain in the world. They must therefore look higher than his bodily presence and beyond the present order of things.

He also means, “Do not stay here touching me now. Do not linger to ask more questions or to pour out more joy, for I have not yet ascended. I am not leaving immediately, so this can be done another time. The best thing you can do now is carry this news to the disciples. Do not waste time, but go quickly.” Public service should come before private comfort. It is more blessed to give than to receive. Jacob had to let the angel go when day broke and it was time to care for his family. Mary must not stay to talk with her Master, but must carry his message, because this is a day of good news, and she must not keep the comfort for herself. She must pass it on to others. See 2 Kings 7:9.

Second, Christ tells her what message to bring to his disciples: “Go to my brothers and tell them,” not only that I am risen, which she could say from what she had seen, but also that I am ascending. Notice, first, who receives this message. “Go to my brothers,” because he is not ashamed to call them brothers. He was now entering his glory and being declared the Son of God with greater power than before, yet he still claims his disciples as brothers and speaks to them with more tenderness than before. He had called them friends, but never brothers until now. Though Christ is exalted, he is not proud. Even in his highest honor, he does not refuse to own his poor relatives.

His disciples had recently acted badly toward him. He had not seen them all together since they all left him and fled when he was arrested. By rights, he could have sent them a sharp message: “Go to those faithless deserters and tell them I will never trust them again.” But no, he forgives, he forgets, and he does not scold them.

Second, notice who carries the message, Mary Magdalene, from whom seven demons had been cast out, yet who is now so honored. This was her reward for staying close to Christ and seeking him carefully. It was also a quiet rebuke to the apostles, who had not stayed as close as she had to the dying Jesus, or come as early as she did to meet the risen Jesus. She becomes, in effect, an apostle to the apostles.

Third, notice the message itself: “I ascend to my Father.” These words hold two great comforts. First, our shared relation to God, through our union with Christ, is a deep comfort. Speaking of that endless source of light, life, and joy, Christ says, “He is my Father, and your Father; my God, and your God.” This shows how close believers are to Christ. He who makes people holy and those who are made holy are all one, for they share one purpose and one family (Hebrews 2:11). Here we see the great honor of believers and the great kindness of Christ bringing them so near together. It is wonderfully arranged for their union.

The great dignity of believers is this: the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ is, in Christ, their Father too. There is a wide difference in how that relationship begins. He is Christ’s Father by eternal generation, and ours by gracious adoption, meaning God receives us as his children by grace. Yet even this gives us the right to call him, as Christ did, “Abba, Father.” This is why Christ called them brothers, because his Father was their Father too.

Christ was now going up to appear before the Father as our advocate, that is, as the one who speaks for us. He is going to his Father, so we may trust that he will succeed in whatever he asks. He is also going to our Father, so we may trust that he will succeed for us.

It is a great act of humility that Christ is willing to call the believer’s God his God: “My God and your God.” He is God’s own Son, yet he says, “My God,” so that God may also be our God. God is the God of the Redeemer, who strengthens him (Psalm 89:26), and through him he becomes the God who saves the redeemed. The heart of the new covenant is this, that God will be our God. Since Christ is the surety, the one who guarantees the covenant, and the head of it, God first deals with him, and then with believers through him as his spiritual children. In that way, the covenant bond first rests on Christ, then on us. God becomes his God, and so ours. We share in the divine nature, and Christ’s Father becomes our Father. He shares our human nature, and our God is his God.

Christ’s going to heaven, in the further work of saving us, is also a great comfort. He was saying, in effect, “Tell them that I must soon ascend. That is the next step I must take.” This was meant to warn the disciples not to expect his bodily presence to remain on earth, or to expect the earthly kingdom they had imagined. He had risen, not to stay with them, but to go ahead with his work in heaven. Those who are raised to new spiritual life, in line with Christ’s resurrection, must remember that rising leads to ascending. They are made alive with Christ so that they may sit with him in the heavenly places (Ephesians 2:5-6). They should not think of this earth as their home and rest. They were born from heaven, and they are heading to heaven. Their minds and goals must be set on another world, and they should keep this truth in view, “I am ascending, so I must seek the things above.”

This was also a word of comfort for the disciples, and for all who will believe in him through their message. He was then ascending, and he has now ascended to his Father and our Father. This was his honor, since he went up to receive the glory and authority that were his reward after suffering. He says it with joy, so that those who love him may rejoice with him. It is also our advantage, because he ascended as a conqueror, leading captivity captive for us (Psalm 68:18). He ascended as our forerunner, to prepare a place for us and to be ready to welcome us there.

This message was like the news Joseph’s brothers brought to Jacob about him: “Joseph is still alive” (Genesis 45:26). It was more than that, really. He lives, and he has come into power too. He rules over all the land of Egypt, and all authority is his. Some understand the words, “I ascend to my Father and your Father,” as including a promise of our resurrection through the power of Christ’s resurrection. Christ had already shown the resurrection of the dead from these words, “I am the God of Abraham” (Matthew 22:32). So here he is saying, in effect, “Since he is my God and has raised me, he is your God too, and he will raise you as well, and be your God forever” (Revelation 21:3). “Because I live, you will live also.” I now ascend to honor my God, and you will ascend to him as your God.

Mary Magdalene then gave a faithful report to the disciples of what she had seen and heard (John 20:18). She came and told the disciples, whom she found gathered together, that she had seen the Lord. Peter and John had left her searching for him with tears, and they would not stay to seek him with her. So she returned to tell them that she had found him, and to correct the mistake she had helped lead them into by looking for the dead body. She now knew it was a living body, and a glorified one. She had found what she had been looking for, and far more than that, she had great joy in seeing the Master herself. She was glad to share that joy, because she knew it would be good news for them.

When God comforts us, he means for us to comfort others with that same comfort. And as she told them what she had seen, she also told them what she had heard. She had seen the Lord alive, and this was a good sign of it: he had spoken these things to her as a message to pass on to them. She delivered that message faithfully. Those who know Christ’s word for themselves should pass on that knowledge for the good of others, and they should not begrudge others the same understanding they have received.