A Royal Burial for a Hanged Man Text: John 19:38-42
Introduction: The King in the Tomb
The world believes the story of Jesus ends at the cross. For the unbeliever, the crucifixion is the final, definitive statement: the man is dead, the movement is over, the claims are falsified. It is the ultimate degradation, the final humiliation. And many Christians, if they are honest, treat the burial of Jesus as a sad and necessary intermission, a pause in the action between the horror of Good Friday and the triumph of Easter Sunday. It is the awkward silence after the tragedy, before the happy ending.
But this is to read the story with carnal eyes. This is to accept the enemy's press release. The burial of Jesus is not an intermission; it is an enthronement. It is not an act of desperation, but a declaration of dominion. In the ancient world, to be left unburied was the ultimate curse. It was to be given over to the dogs and the birds, to have your memory blotted out from under heaven. But to be buried with honor was a sign of respect, of legitimacy, of a lasting legacy. And so we must see that the burial of Jesus is not the pathetic end of a failed rebellion. It is the sovereignly orchestrated, prophetically charged, and royally appointed internment of the King of the cosmos.
God is never more in control than when He appears to have lost it completely. When the disciples, the public followers, have scattered like frightened sheep, God raises up secret agents from inside the enemy's own council chambers. When the world is screaming "Crucify Him," God is preparing a king's ransom of spices. When the powers of darkness believe they have won the decisive victory, God is fulfilling the prophet Isaiah to the letter. The burial of Jesus is a master class in divine irony. It is a testimony to the fact that our God plays chess while His enemies are playing checkers, and they do not even know it. This is not a funeral; it is a coronation in a cave.
Every detail of this account, from the men involved to the spices used to the location of the tomb, is dripping with theological significance. It is a declaration that the one who died as a criminal is honored as a king, because His death was in fact His victory. He was not a victim; He was a victor. And His rest in the tomb was not the sleep of the dead, but the Sabbath rest of a conqueror who had finished His work.
The Text
Now after these things Joseph of Arimathea, being a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus; and Pilate granted permission. So he came and took away His body. And Nicodemus, who had first come to Him by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about one hundred litras. So they took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen wrappings with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews. Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid. Therefore because of the Jewish day of Preparation, since the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.
(John 19:38-42 LSB)
The Courage of the Secret Service (v. 38)
We begin with the man who steps out of the shadows.
"Now after these things Joseph of Arimathea, being a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus; and Pilate granted permission. So he came and took away His body." (John 19:38 LSB)
Here is a beautiful picture of the upside-down economy of God's kingdom. The cross was supposed to be the ultimate deterrent. The public, shameful execution of the leader was designed to terrorize his followers into permanent silence and obscurity. And for the Twelve, for a time, it worked. They fled. Peter, the rock, denied Him. They were hiding behind locked doors "for fear of the Jews."
And at that very moment of apparent collapse, who steps onto the public stage? A man who was a disciple "secretly because of his fear of the Jews." The very thing that scattered the public disciples is what galvanized the secret one. The cross does not create cowards; it creates courage. The death of Christ, which seemed to be the end of all hope, was the very event that caused Joseph's faith to burst into the open. He could no longer remain silent or secret. He goes boldly to Pilate, the man who had just condemned Jesus, and makes a request that publicly identifies him with a crucified criminal, the enemy of the state.
This is a profound lesson for us. We live in a time when many Christians are tempted to be secret disciples. We fear the modern Sanhedrin of our cancel culture. We don't want to be put out of the synagogue of public approval. But Joseph shows us that the moment of greatest darkness is the moment for greatest courage. When the world does its worst, that is when the people of God must do their best. God is not limited by our fears, and He can summon His servants from the most unlikely places, even from the high council of the enemy.
Notice also the casual way Pilate grants permission. For Pilate, this is just administrative clean-up. For God, this is the turning point of history. The rulers of this age are pawns on a board they cannot see. They think they are making decisions, but they are simply fulfilling a script written before the foundation of the world. God needed the body, and so He sent a rich man to ask a pagan governor for it, and the governor complied without a second thought.
The Extravagance of a King's Anointing (v. 39)
Joseph does not act alone. Another secret disciple joins him, and he does not come empty-handed.
"And Nicodemus, who had first come to Him by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about one hundred litras." (John 19:39 LSB)
Nicodemus. The man who came to Jesus under the cover of darkness, full of questions, is now here at the darkest hour in broad daylight, full of devotion. His faith, like Joseph's, has come out of hiding. And look at what he brings. A mixture of myrrh and aloes weighing about one hundred litras. A litra was a Roman pound, so we are talking about roughly seventy-five pounds of expensive, aromatic spices. This is an astonishing amount.
This is not the bare minimum required for a burial. This is not a pragmatic effort to mask the smell of decay. This is a lavish, extravagant, almost reckless act of honor. This is the kind of anointing reserved for the burial of a king. This is a statement. This is an act of worship. In the face of the world's ultimate act of contempt for Jesus, Nicodemus performs an ultimate act of reverence. The world gave him a cross of shame; Nicodemus gives him a burial of honor. The world stripped him naked; Nicodemus clothes him in a king's worth of spices.
This confronts our cheap and sentimental versions of Christianity. We serve a King who is worthy of everything. Our devotion should not be calculated and minimal, but lavish and extravagant. The woman who broke the alabaster jar of perfume was criticized for her wastefulness, but Jesus commended her. Nicodemus makes a similarly "wasteful" gesture, pouring out a fortune on a dead body. But it is not waste to honor the King, even in death. It is a prophetic act, declaring His true identity when the whole world is blind to it.
The Covenantal Propriety (v. 40-41)
The actions of these men are not just courageous and lavish; they are also meticulously proper and prophetically significant.
"So they took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen wrappings with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews. Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid." (John 19:40-41 LSB)
They buried him "as is the burial custom of the Jews." Jesus, who lived his life as a faithful Jew under the law, is buried as a faithful Jew. This is not some new-fangled, spiritualized disposal of a body. This is a deeply covenantal act. It honors the body because the body matters. God created matter and called it good. The Son of God took on a real, physical body. And that body will be resurrected. This careful, customary burial is a testimony against all forms of gnosticism that would despise the physical world. Our faith is an earthy faith, grounded in a real man, a real cross, and a real tomb.
And then we have the location. A garden. Where did humanity's great tragedy begin? In a garden. The first Adam disobeyed in a garden and brought death into the world. Now the second Adam, having completed his work of perfect obedience, is laid to rest in a garden, from which he will bring life everlasting. The symmetry is deliberate and divine.
And in this garden is a new tomb, one in which no one had ever been laid. This is crucial for two reasons. First, for the sake of apologetics. When this tomb is found empty on Sunday morning, there can be no confusion, no claim that they simply got the wrong body or that Jesus' body was mixed up with another. It was a new, unused tomb. But second, it is a matter of honor. The King of Kings does not get a hand-me-down grave. He is laid in a virgin tomb, just as He was born of a virgin womb. This fulfills the prophecy of Isaiah with breathtaking precision: "He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death" (Isaiah 53:9). He died between two thieves, but He is buried in the tomb of a wealthy man.
God's Perfect Timing (v. 42)
The final verse gives us the reason for the location and the timing, and in it, we see the final flourish of God's sovereign hand.
"Therefore because of the Jewish day of Preparation, since the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there." (John 19:42 LSB)
They are in a hurry. The Sabbath is approaching, beginning at sunset. All work must cease. The nearness of Joseph's tomb was a practical necessity. But in God's providence, there are no mere practical necessities. The haste was not a sign of panic, but of piety. They were rushing to honor the dead while also honoring the Sabbath law.
And so, Jesus Christ, the Lord of the Sabbath, the one who is our true Sabbath rest, is laid in the tomb just as the Sabbath day begins. Having declared from the cross, "It is finished," He now rests. He rests on the seventh day, just as God the Father rested on the seventh day of creation. The work of the old creation is done. The work of redemption is accomplished. And the Lord rests. This is the great pause, the holy quiet before the explosive power of the first day of the new week, the day of New Creation.
Conclusion: The Gospel Buried and Risen
The Apostle Paul tells us that the gospel he preached was of first importance: that Christ died for our sins, that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day (1 Cor. 15:3-4). We often rush past that middle part. He was buried. Why is this essential to the gospel? Because the burial is the iron-clad certificate of His death. There was no swoon, no coma. He was dead. Dead enough to be handled, wrapped, and sealed in a tomb. And because His death was real, our death to sin in Him is real.
But more than that, by His rest in the tomb, He has sanctified the graves of all the saints. For the believer, the grave is no longer a place of terror and finality. It is a bedroom, a cemetery, a "sleeping place." Because the King has passed through it, He has transformed it. He has left a long perfume in that cold, dark room.
The courage of Joseph and Nicodemus is a summons to us. They stepped out of the shadows when it was most costly. Will we? The lavish love of Nicodemus is a rebuke to our stingy hearts. Do we give our King the honor He is due? The entire scene is a testimony to the absolute, meticulous, sovereign control of God over all things. He is the author, and He does not drop a single plot point.
The King was laid in a borrowed tomb, but He was only borrowing it for the weekend. And when He was finished with it, He gave it back. Empty. Because He is not the King of the dead, but the King of the living. And because He lives, we shall live also.