And Peter
The women come to anoint Jesus’ body but instead find an empty tomb, an angel’s announcement, and a grace-soaked message for “the disciples—and Peter.” Mark ends his gospel abruptly, leaving readers with a challenge: faced with the risen Christ, will we run in fear or rise in faith?
Mark 16 When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. 2 Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb 3 and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”
The Sabbath was over, and two Marys—Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James—make their way back to the tomb. They come with spices, determined to do for Jesus what Joseph’s hurried burial had not allowed: anoint his body with the dignity he deserved. But grief is a fog, and their plan is riddled with holes. The massive stone sealing the tomb—how would they ever move it? They hadn’t thought that far ahead. Yet when they arrive, the problem has already been solved. The stone is gone. The tomb stands open.
What must have raced through their minds? Has someone stolen his body? Is this some cruel prank? Or—could it be? Did the words Jesus spoke about rising on the third day suddenly stir in their memories? Even in their grief, was there a flicker of hope?
4 But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. 5 As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.
6 “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. 7 But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’”
They step inside, expecting the stench of death. Instead, they find life. A young man clothed in white sits waiting, his presence more terrifying than comforting. We’re not told much about him, but his words change everything: “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here.” The women are trembling, bewildered, undone. And then, almost casually, he delivers one of the most grace-filled messages in all of Scripture: “Go, tell his disciples—and Peter—that he is going ahead of you into Galilee.”
“And Peter.” Two words that heal a world of shame. The disciples had all abandoned him, but Peter’s failure was public, loud, and devastating. Three denials, capped by a rooster’s crow, had broken him. Yet here, through the mouth of an angel, Jesus singles him out—not for rebuke, but for restoration. “And Peter.” Especially Peter. Make sure Peter knows he’s not disqualified. Make sure Peter knows grace is bigger than his betrayal. This is the upside-down kingdom at work: failure isn’t the end; grace gets the last word.
8 Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.
And then, Mark does the strangest thing. He ends the story here. No joyful reunion, no long teaching, no ascension. Just women running away, trembling and speechless, afraid to tell anyone. It’s jarring, frustrating even. But maybe that’s the point. Mark leaves us standing where they stood—with an empty tomb, a bewildering promise, and a choice. Will we flee in fear because resurrection is too outrageous to believe? Or will we, like the centurion at the cross, dare to confess in faith, “Surely this man was the Son of God”?
Mark began his Gospel with a bold declaration: “The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God.” And then, like a whirlwind, he swept us through the wild, upside-down story of a King who didn’t seize power but surrendered to suffering, who didn’t avoid death but walked straight into it, who didn’t stay in the grave but burst out of it. And how does Mark choose to end this story? Not with tidy resolution, not with a polished conclusion, but with an unfinished edge. It’s as if he’s saying: this is only the beginning. The tomb is empty, Jesus is alive, and now the story continues in you. The good news doesn’t end at chapter 16—it spills into your life and mine. The real question is not how Mark’s Gospel ends, but how our lives will carry it forward.
Reflection Question
What does it mean for you that Jesus’ message included “and Peter”—even after his very public failure and rejection of Jesus?
If you’re wondering, “I thought there was more to Mark’s ending” — come back tomorrow for the epilogue!
