The Women, the Table, and the Risen Christ

An Invitation to Become Heralds of Resurrection

All four gospel accounts agree that resurrection of Jesus Christ was first announced to the world by women¹. Mary Magdalene and the other women came to the tomb while darkness was still lingering. They were not coming with expectation of resurrection, but rather with grief in their hands, spices prepared for burial, and the heavy sense that the future they had hoped for had been sealed in death, and yet—these same women became the first witnesses of the empty tomb. The first to hear the announcement, the first entrusted with the news that everything had changed.

The angel said to them, “He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples” (Matt. 28:6–7)².

Come and see. Then go and tell.

We do not begin with speaking. We begin with seeing, we begin with hearing, we begin with encountering Jesus. We begin with being near enough to Him that something in us is reoriented by His presence.

The women were not sent out with a polished argument or a mastered theology. They were sent to tell what they had been given to see: the tomb was empty, death had been defeated, and Jesus was alive. And even then—their testimony was not immediately believed. The disciples dismissed their words as nonsense (Luke 24:11)³. But disbelief did not cancel their commission.

Jesus entrusted the first proclamation of resurrection to women whose voices were easily overlooked in their world. He did not wait for cultural permission to validate them, He validated them by revealing Himself to them.

This is not a small detail in the story, but reflects the way Jesus had related to women throughout His ministry. He welcomed them as disciples, received their devotion, defended their dignity, listened to their voices, healed their bodies, and entrusted them with truth, often drawing near to those whom others were prepared to overlook or push aside. Women sat at His feet, followed Him, remained near the cross when others scattered, watched where His body was laid, and returned to the tomb after the Sabbath, where they became the first to receive and carry the news of His resurrection. The Gospel writers preserve their presence because these women are not incidental to the story; their witness belongs within the story of what Christ was restoring.

The Table as a Place of Revelation

So much of Jesus’ ministry unfolds around a table.

He eats with tax collectors and sinners, He receives the devotion of those others reject, He enters homes, He breaks bread, He washes feet, He shares meals with Pharisees, He feeds the hungry, He even is recognized in the breaking of bread after His resurrection.

The table in Scripture is never just about food; it becomes a place where something deeper is revealed and where the restoring work of God often takes shape through ordinary human fellowship. Around the table, belonging is restored, pride is confronted, grief is given room to be held, strangers become family, and truth can be spoken in love. It becomes a place where memories are formed, relationships are strengthened, and covenant is remembered and renewed.

At a table, we are brought low enough to see one another. No one stands above. No one performs from a distance. We sit together in shared humanity, and in that place, Jesus reveals the heart of God.

Again and again, He is criticized for the people He welcomes to His table, but the Bible reveals those very meals as becoming living pictures of the kingdom. The excluded are drawn near, the ashamed are seen, the hungry are fed, the self-righteous are gently confronted, the forgotten are remembered.

At the Last Supper, Jesus gives the table its deepest meaning. He takes bread, breaks it, and says, “This is my body, given for you.” He takes the cup and speaks of a new covenant. He does not only explain love—He places it in their hands.

Life with Jesus is always received before it is achieved.

And after the resurrection, we see it again on the road to Emmaus. Two disciples are walking in disappointment, convinced hope has died. Jesus comes alongside them. He opens the Scriptures. He walks with them. And then, at the table, He takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them, "and their eyes are opened" (Luke 24:30–31)⁴.

They say afterward, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32)⁵.

Scripture opened, bread broken, eyes opened, hearts awakened.

This is not a systematic formula for an encounter with the living Christ, but rather a revelation of a living Messiah who pursues the depth of the human heart-this is what we are being invited into.

More Than Another Bible Study

It is possible to gather, to study, to be consistent—and still slowly drift from the living center of why we gather at all. We can become familiar without becoming transformed. We can become structured without becoming alive. We can become informed without becoming free.

The invitation is not to abandon structure, but to recover its purpose.

Psalm 90:12 says, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Time matters. Presence matters. The way we gather matters.

Honoring a beginning and an ending is not legalism—it can be love. It can be a way of saying: your life is not an interruption here, it is honored here. This Wednesday night women’s gathering is being invited into something more intentional, something shaped by the image of the table. Not as a program, not as performance, not as obligation, not as an attempt to maintain appearances or meet expectations, but as an invitation into an expedition.

We believe there is always more of Jesus to know, and the more we know about Him, the more we are changed by Him, and in turn the more we can see Heaven on Earth, even in our most challenging of times.

Every new glimpse of Him has the power to undo lies we have believed for years.

Shame begins to lose its authority. Fear begins to loosen its grip. Hope begins to rise again. Healing begins to take root. Relationships begin to be restored.

The goal is not simply more information about Jesus, it is deeper communion with Jesus.

Women Who Come and See

The women at the tomb were given a simple but profound invitation: come and see, then go and tell. The order matters.

We do not begin with pressure. We begin with presence.

Come and see what God has done. Come close enough to recognize Jesus. Come with your questions, your grief, your hope, your confusion, your longing.

The women did not become witnesses because they were the most qualified voices in the room, they became witnesses because they had encountered the risen Christ.

I want to say this gently: there is room here for every kind of woman.

Some lead loudly. Some lead quietly. Some carry strength in words. Some carry strength in presence. Some see what others miss. Some hold the room steady. Some speak easily. Some are still learning to speak at all.

None of these need to compete. None of these need to imitate.

What matters is not performance, but presence with Jesus.

A pastoral heart is not measured by visibility, it is measured by love, by faithfulness, by humility, by the willingness to serve, to listen, to notice, to care, to speak truth gently, and to keep pointing people back to Jesus.

There is no pressure here to perform a spiritual identity.

No one needs to arrive already “put together.” No one needs to have the right words. No one needs to prove belonging.

There is room for silence. Room for laughter. Room for tears. Room for questions. Room for honesty. Room for growth.

There is also room for those who have been here before but have drifted away—busy seasons, distance, discouragement, or simply life pulling in other directions.

The invitation is not merely, “Come back to a group.”

It is deeper than that.

Come to the table.

Come and be with Jesus again.

Come and open the Scriptures with us.

Come and be known.

Come and rediscover what His life might mean in your life again.

Women Who Go and Tell

The table is never meant to become a container for spiritual life. It is meant to become a source that overflows.

What is received at the table is meant to be carried elsewhere.

The women who left the empty tomb carried resurrection into a world still marked by grief. In the same way, what is received in the presence of Jesus is meant to shape homes, friendships, workplaces, and communities.

A woman who encounters the patience of Jesus begins to carry that patience into her home. A woman who sees the heart of Jesus for the overlooked begins to notice the overlooked. A woman who is healed from shame becomes a safe place for others still hiding. A woman who experiences honest community becomes an invitation for others to step into honesty.

The resurrection spreads not through information alone, but through transformed lives.

And so we will not measure this gathering only by attendance.

We will ask deeper questions.

Are we becoming more attentive to Jesus?

Are we growing in Scripture together?

Are we becoming safer with one another?Are we learning to tell the truth in love?

Are we discovering and releasing gifts among us?

Are we becoming women who carry peace into the world?

Are we becoming witnesses?

An Invitation to the Table

I believe this next season is an invitation into something deeper than we have yet known together. A journey into the beauty of Jesus through Scripture, shared life, prayer, and the breaking of bread.

We want to set a table that is intentional. We want to honor time without idolizing it. We want to go deep without becoming proud. We want to be honest without losing our center. We want to make space for many voices while always returning to the voice of Jesus.

And above all, we want to become women who can say with clarity and joy:

we have seen the Lord!

The first women at the tomb carried resurrection into a world still shadowed by death, and Jesus entrusted that message to them.

That same Jesus is still meeting women today. Still opening Scripture. Still restoring dignity. Still awakening hope. Still sending witnesses.

I want to end with a pastoral exhortation:

Do not settle for distance when Jesus is inviting you near.

Do not settle for information when He is offering communion.

Do not settle for routine when He is calling you into encounter.

Come and see Him again.

Let Him speak to the places you have stopped believing can change.

Let Him breathe life into what feels buried.

Let Him restore what has been worn down by time.

Let Him reawaken what has gone quiet in you.

And then—when you have seen Him—do not keep it to yourself.

Go and tell.

Carry His life into your home.

Carry His peace into your relationships.

Carry His truth into your conversations.

Carry His love into the places that feel most dry.

And may we, together, become women who live as if the tomb is still empty—because it is.

Footnotes

1. See Matthew 28:1–10; Mark 16:1–8; Luke 24:1–12; John 20:1–18.

2. Matthew 28:6–7 (NIV).

3. Luke 24:11.

4. Luke 24:30–31.

5. Luke 24:32.