Unlike every other king in the line of David, unlike every other person on earth, Jesus, the King of kings, had died and risen again!
There were once shepherds out in the hills watching their sheep. Birds chirped as they swooped among the old trees. Rabbits dashed back and forth through the tall grass. Cool, refreshing water of a spring bubbled in the distance.
The bleating of sheep could be heard as they grazed about — the way animals do when they don’t have a care in the world. The shepherds watching their sheep didn’t have a care in the world, either. As they swept their eyes over the flock, they often caught themselves admiring the tranquil scenery that surrounded them. Could there be a more peaceful place to work? No wolves. No enemies. No rival shepherds. Simply serenity.
Then one of the shepherds cried out to the others, “Hey, come over here. Look at this!” Bewildered, the others approached, their sheep still grazing behind them. As they drew near, they noticed a stone structure. Looking closely, they realized it was a tomb. Who was buried here, and why? How could such a tragedy befall someone in such a paradise like this?
As they ran their fingers across the carved stone they felt the answer to their question. Letters had been carved into the hard pieces of rock. They were written in Latin. The inscription read: Et in Arcadia, Ego. Which means, “Even in Arcadia, I am here.”
They knew what it meant. Even in this paradise on earth called Arcadia, with the peaceful streams and the rolling fields, even with no enemy in sight, death still existed. Even in the paradises of this world, death is still there.
This famous scene is immortalized in the painting by the classical painter Nicolas Poussin. It shows the tomb and the inscription. And it shows the surprised and saddened shepherds. Their serene world, their perfect place was shattered by a hard, cold reality: no matter where you are, death finds you.
Our Lenten journey through the tombs of the kings of Judah have certainly illustrated death’s power. King Asa could build cities and construct towers, but he could not build a defense against death. Jehoshaphat put his trust in his alliances with wicked kings, but he could not outflank the grave. The High Priest Jehoiada and his wife heroically saved a little baby from murder, but they could not save themselves from death. King Uzziah’s pride led him to think of himself as a god, but his punishment of leprosy revealed his frailty. He rested in a quarantined tomb. King Manasseh ran further away from the Lord than any of his ancestors. Yet even when he repented and was restored to his throne in Jerusalem, death eventually found him too. Finally, the last king of Jerusalem, Zedekiah, tried to sneak away from the Babylonian invasion to outwit death. Yet death found him all the same, sentencing him to a burial outside his kingdom.
This walk through the tombs has been a weekly reminder of the inevitability of death. Has it been unnerving? We don’t often like to talk about death in our modern world. We relegate it to back rooms in hospitals and pay funeral homes to take care of the preparations for burial.
This walk through the tombs has been a weekly reminder of the inevitability of death.
That wasn’t always how it was done. In Jesus’ day, family members would have mourned their loved one and prepared them for death in their very own home. After Jesus had suffered for all of our sins of trusting in ourselves and trying to save ourselves from death, he gave up his spirit on the cross and died.
Throughout the ages, paintings have tried to capture this moment when Jesus’ lifeless body was taken from the cross. We might call it the Bible’s Et in Arcadia, Ego moment. Even for Jesus, the very Son of God, death had arrived. Overwhelmed, Jesus’ disciples fled. They would only meet behind locked doors. Fear gripped everyone.
But there, at the foot of the cross, the faithful women who had followed Jesus even to the cross gathered his body. They had to hurry. The sun was setting. When it did, it marked the beginning of the Sabbath. No one was allowed to work on the Sabbath. Not only that, but working with a dead body — even Jesus’ dead body — would make a person ceremonially unclean.
The women must have felt devastated. Their Teacher, their Lord, their Savior had died. Perhaps they heard the sad words of King Solomon ringing in their minds, “At least the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing. They have no further reward, because all memory of them is forgotten” (Eccl. 9:5).
How long that Sabbath Saturday must have felt! Memories of a ministry filled with amazing miracles and rich gospel truths had now all faded away. But Sunday morning would provide the women one last opportunity to see their Lord in the tomb. They would have the time to prepare Jesus’ body properly for burial. They could pay their final respects.
No wonder that at the first glint of light on the horizon they left their homes and traveled to Jesus’ tomb. They probably thought they were ready for these final moments at the tomb that Sunday morning. Yet everything was wrong. The soldiers were gone. The stone had been rolled away. Most distressingly of all, Jesus’ body was missing!
Then the angels appeared, sharing the most beautiful message the world has ever heard: “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen!” (Mark 16:6)
You can tell a lot about a king by where he is buried. Unlike every other king in the line of David, unlike every other person on earth, Jesus, the King of kings, had died and risen again! The tomb was empty. Death had been swallowed up in victory. And because Jesus’ tomb stands empty, the tombs of all those faithful kings who believed in the coming Savior will one day be empty as well. Because Jesus lives, so will your loved ones who have been laid to rest.
And because your Lord and Savior died and rose again, you will rise to be with him forever.
Death had shattered the painting of the perfect land, declaring, “Even in Arcadia, I am here.” Yet Christ, your resurrection and life, reminds you that even in death, he is there. Jesus defeated death to win for you a greater paradise than anything here on earth. No tomb could hold him forever. And because of him, no tomb will hold you forever either.
At the beginning of our walk through the tombs we glanced at the tomb of King David. He probably didn’t have an epitaph etched on the stone walls that held his body inside. But if he did, I like to think they were these words from Psalm 16 that look ahead to his descendant, his Messiah, his Lord, his Life. This Easter, because of your Savior Jesus, you get to join David and sing them by faith:
“You will not abandon my life to the grave. You will not let your favored one see decay. You have made known to me the path of life, fullness of joy in your presence, pleasures at your right hand forever” (Ps. 16:10-11).
