Day 94

Deuteronomy 33–34 | John 19:38–20:10 | Psalm 41

Yesterday was heavy. Grief. Loss. The crushing weight of a Savior crucified.

But today feels different. Not just because it’s a new day—but because the story isn’t over.

Not even close.

Yesterday: the cross.

Today: the empty tomb.

Yesterday: the darkness.

Today: the dawn.

This is the day everything changed.

The day death lost.

The day Jesus walked out of the grave—alive.

The Defeat of Death

John 20 tells it plainly:

The stone is rolled away.

The grave clothes are folded.

The tomb—empty.

The story doesn’t start there, though. Just three days before, Jesus hung on a cross—unrecognizable. Flesh ripped open. Face swollen. His whole body bloodied by the scourging, the thorns, the nails.

Isaiah prophesied it centuries earlier:

“His appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance…” (Isaiah 52:14)

This wasn’t just bruised hands and a pierced side. His whole being was disfigured—beaten beyond recognition.

And yet—He lives.

Not just revived.

Resurrected.

Made new—but with scars still there.

Scars That Tell the Story

That’s what strikes me most—the risen Savior, standing victorious, yet still marked by suffering.

He still bears the scars.

They didn’t disappear in the resurrection.

Because they weren’t blemishes to be erased—they were proof of triumph.

Proof that suffering didn’t win.

That death didn’t win.

That love did.

When the disciples saw those scars, their despair turned to joy.

Because those wounds weren’t just evidence of pain—they were proof that He truly overcame it.

That death didn’t have the final say.

That the grave couldn’t keep Him.

And it makes me think—maybe my scars aren’t just reminders of what happened to me. Maybe they’re testimonies of how God carried me through it.

Of how He turned pain into perseverance.

Of how He took what felt like defeat and proved that He never wastes a wound.

Moses’ Final Song

Before the tomb burst open, today’s reading takes us to Moses’ final moments. His life marked by miracles and mistakes. A leader who faltered. A servant who often failed.

And yet—God calls him “the man of God” (Deut. 33:1).

He doesn’t define Moses by his worst moments. He doesn’t hold the failure at Meribah against him forever. He remembers Moses for his faithfulness, not his flaws. And that’s grace.

God buries him personally, honoring the man who—despite his shortcomings—still followed. Still believed. Still sang.

Just as Jesus’ scars were evidence of victory, Moses’ final song was proof that God’s grace can redeem even our greatest failures.

It’s a beautiful and humbling reminder of God’s grace and the personal love He has for those who walk with Him.

Scars That Redeem

Jesus’ scars and Moses’ failures both tell stories of grace.

Jesus didn’t erase His scars. He showed them—proof of both the pain endured and the victory achieved.

And Moses’ final song wasn’t one of defeat, but of worship—proof that grace triumphs over flaws.

My scars, too, are part of a bigger story.

They aren’t just markers of my suffering—they’re monuments to God’s presence through it all.

He turned what felt like devastation into a testimony of His sustaining grace.

And because He lives, I know that the pain of the past is not wasted.

It’s not just a memory—it’s a story of redemption.

Hope Rising

Today, as I think about the empty tomb, I’m reminded that no darkness lasts forever.

Not mine. Not yours.

Because if death itself can’t hold Him, nothing else can either. Not doubt. Not fear. Not suffering.

The grave clothes are folded.

The stone is rolled away.

The Savior is alive—and so is the hope He brings.

And because He lives, I can face my scars without fear.

Because He lives, I know that the pain of the past is not wasted.

Because He lives, I can step forward—scars and all—knowing they tell a story of grace, not defeat.

Behold the Risen King

Just days before, Pilate presented Jesus as a defeated figure—hoping to pacify the crowd.

But today, we see Him as He truly is:

The Conqueror who took death head-on and took away its sting.

The risen King who turned wounds into triumph.

The Savior who proved that scars aren’t a sign of defeat—they’re a seal of victory.

⸻

Lord, thank You for bearing scars on my behalf. Thank You for stepping out of the grave and proving that pain doesn’t get the last word. Help me to see my own scars as reminders of Your faithfulness. To trust that You can redeem every wound. And to live with the hope that—because You live—I can face tomorrow with confidence, boldness, and complete resolve that the victory is already won. Amen.