The Gardener of the New Creation Text: John 20:11-18
Introduction: The Tears of the Beloved
The world is full of tears. We weep over loss, over betrayal, over the simple, grinding fact that everything we love in this world is subject to decay and death. Our modern world has two standard responses to this reality. The first is a brittle stoicism, a stiff upper lip that pretends the grave is not a tragedy. The second is a sentimental therapeuticism, which makes our feelings the center of the universe and offers endless validation but no actual hope. Both are lies. Both are ways of whistling past the graveyard.
But the Christian faith does not ignore our tears, nor does it worship them. It gives them their proper place and then, gloriously, it gives a reason for them to cease. And it does so here, in a garden, with a weeping woman. Mary Magdalene, out of whom seven demons were cast, a woman with a past, is the first witness to the central event of all history. This is not an accident. The first Adam met a woman in a garden of life, with her innocence behind her. The second Adam, the Lord of life, meets a woman in a garden of death, a cemetery, with all her innocence before her, purchased by His blood.
God does not despise the devotion of a broken heart. He does not wave away the grief of His people as an inconvenience. He meets us in it. But He does not leave us there. The story of Mary Magdalene at the tomb is the story of the gospel in miniature. It is the movement from utter desolation to ecstatic joy, from blind confusion to stunning recognition, and from a backward-looking grief to a forward-looking mission. This is not just a historical account of the first resurrection appearance. It is a paradigm for every believer. It is the story of how the whore becomes a virgin bride, of how the weeping find their laughter, and of how the dead are made alive.
The Text
But Mary was standing outside the tomb crying; and so, as she was crying, she stooped to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white sitting, one at the head and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been lying. And they said to her, “Woman, why are you crying?” She said to them, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, and did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you crying? Whom are you seeking?” Thinking Him to be the gardener, she said to Him, “Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to Him in Hebrew, “Rabboni!” (which means, Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Stop clinging to Me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to My brothers and say to them, ‘I ascend to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God.’ ” Mary Magdalene came, announcing to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” and that He had said these things to her.
(John 20:11-18 LSB)
Desolate Devotion (vv. 11-13)
We begin with Mary, alone and weeping.
"But Mary was standing outside the tomb crying; and so, as she was crying, she stooped to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white sitting, one at the head and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been lying. And they said to her, 'Woman, why are you crying?' She said to them, 'Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him.'" (John 20:11-13)
Peter and John have come and gone. They saw the evidence, were perplexed, and returned home. But Mary stays. Her devotion, though clouded by grief and misunderstanding, keeps her tethered to the last place she knew Him to be. This is a lesson for us. Sometimes, when our theology is confused and our hearts are heavy, the best thing we can do is simply stay put. Stay near the cross, stay near the tomb. Don't run off into distraction. Linger, even if it is in sorrow.
As she weeps, she looks into the tomb again, and this time she sees something Peter and John did not. She sees two angels in white. Notice their position: one at the head and one at the feet where Jesus' body had lain. This is a direct echo of the Mercy Seat on the Ark of the Covenant, which had two cherubim at either end (Exodus 25:18-19). The place where the Lord's body lay has become the new Holy of Holies. The place of propitiation is no longer a golden lid in the temple; it is the empty slab in a borrowed tomb. The true atonement has been made.
The angels ask a question that will be repeated moments later by the Lord Himself: "Woman, why are you crying?" This is not a rebuke. It is an invitation to see that the reason for her tears has been gloriously removed. It is the universe asking, "Why are you looking for the living among the dead?" But Mary cannot see it yet. Her grief is a fog. She gives a simple, heartbreaking answer: "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him." Her only thought is to recover the dead body. Her greatest hope, at this moment, is to be able to finish the burial rites. She is looking for a corpse to anoint, utterly unaware that the King of Life is standing right behind her.
Mistaken Identity (vv. 14-15)
In her grief, Mary turns and comes face to face with the risen Lord, but fails to recognize Him.
"When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, and did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, 'Woman, why are you crying? Whom are you seeking?' Thinking Him to be the gardener, she said to Him, 'Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away.'" (John 20:14-15 LSB)
Why did she not recognize Him? The text says simply that she "did not know that it was Jesus." This is a recurring theme in the post-resurrection accounts (Luke 24:16, John 21:4). There was a change in His glorified body, yes, but there is more going on here. Her eyes were held by her sorrow. Grief can make us blind to the presence of God right in front of us. We are so focused on what we have lost that we cannot see the glorious thing God is doing.
Jesus repeats the angels' question, adding another: "Whom are you seeking?" He is gently pressing her to look past the empty space and to name her heart's desire. But she is still locked in her materialist assumptions. She thinks He is the gardener. And in a profound sense, she is right, though not in the way she imagines. He is the Gardener. The first Adam was a gardener who failed, and through his failure, the whole world was turned into a wilderness of thorns and thistles. Here is the second Adam, the new Gardener, standing in a garden on the first day of the week, the first day of the new creation, ready to make all things new. He is about to plant the seed of the gospel that will grow into a tree that fills the whole earth.
Her response is full of a desperate, devoted love. "Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away." This slight woman, in her grief, proposes to carry a man's body by herself. Love does not always calculate the odds. It simply desires to serve. She wants only to care for the body of her Lord, still thinking of Him as a precious memory to be preserved, not a living King to be worshipped.
The Good Shepherd's Voice (v. 16)
Then comes the turning point of all history, encapsulated in the speaking of a single word.
"Jesus said to her, 'Mary!' She turned and said to Him in Hebrew, 'Rabboni!' (which means, Teacher)." (John 20:16 LSB)
He does not reveal Himself through a philosophical argument or a display of power. He reveals Himself by speaking her name. This is the voice of the Good Shepherd. "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me" (John 10:27). All the fog of grief, all the blindness of sorrow, is burned away in an instant by the sound of her name on His lips. He knows her. He sees her. He calls her.
This is how salvation comes to every one of us. We are lost in the graveyard of our sins, weeping over our losses, blind to the reality of the resurrection. We might even be looking for Jesus, but in all the wrong ways. We are looking for a historical figure, a moral teacher, a dead prophet. And then He speaks our name. The Spirit opens our ears, and we hear the voice of the Shepherd calling us out of darkness into His marvelous light. The general truth of the gospel becomes a personal, saving reality.
Her response is immediate and explosive: "Rabboni!" This is more than just "teacher." It is an intimate, reverent term of deep affection and submission. "My great one," "my master." In that one word, all her desolation turns to adoration. The one she thought was a corpse to be mourned is her living Lord to be worshipped.
A New Relationship (vv. 17-18)
Mary's natural impulse is to cling to Him, to hold on to the relationship she knew. But Jesus immediately redefines the terms of their fellowship.
"Jesus said to her, 'Stop clinging to Me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to My brothers and say to them, ‘I ascend to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God.’' Mary Magdalene came, announcing to the disciples, 'I have seen the Lord,' and that He had said these things to her." (John 20:17-18 LSB)
This is a notoriously difficult phrase: "Stop clinging to Me." The old translation "Touch me not" is probably too strong. He is not forbidding all physical contact; later He will invite Thomas to touch His wounds. The sense is, "Do not hold on to me as though I am staying here in this same fashion." He is telling her that the old, familiar, pre-crucifixion relationship is over. A new era is dawning. He is not simply restored to His old life; He is resurrected to a new kind of life, and He must ascend to the Father. Their fellowship will no longer be based on His physical proximity, but on His heavenly session and the sending of the Spirit.
He then gives her the first apostolic commission of the new covenant. "Go to My brothers." Notice the term. Before the resurrection, He called them disciples, servants, friends. Now, because the cross has accomplished its work, they are His brothers. He is the firstborn among many brethren (Romans 8:29). And the message she is to carry explains the foundation of this new brotherhood: "I ascend to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God."
This is a universe of new meaning packed into one sentence. God is His Father by nature; He is our Father by grace. God is His God in the mystery of the incarnation; He is our God through the covenant He has established in Christ. Because of the cross and the empty tomb, Jesus' Father is now our Father. His God is our God. We have been adopted. We have been brought into the family. The great transaction is complete. This is the message of the gospel.
Mary's response is simple, faithful obedience. She goes from weeper to witness, from mourner to missionary. "Mary Magdalene came, announcing to the disciples, 'I have seen the Lord.'" This is the first gospel sermon. It is the apostolic proclamation in its purest form. It is not a feeling, not a philosophy, but a testimony to a fact: I have seen the Lord. He is alive. And because He is, everything has changed.
Conclusion: From Weeping to Witnessing
Every Christian life is meant to follow the trajectory of Mary's morning. We begin at the tomb, in the graveyard of our own sin and death. We are weeping, and we have good reason to weep. The world is broken, we are broken, and the wages of sin is death. We are looking for a solution, but like Mary, we are often looking for the wrong thing, a way to tidy up the corpse of our old life.
But then the Gardener of the New Creation speaks our name. The risen Lord breaks through our grief-stricken blindness. He calls us personally, intimately. And in that moment of recognition, everything changes. We cry "Rabboni!" and our hearts are captured. We are no longer defined by our past, by the seven demons that once held us captive. We are defined by the one who called us by name.
And immediately, He gives us our marching orders. We are not to cling to a past experience. We are not to try to fossilize the moment of our conversion. We are to go and tell His brothers. The personal encounter with the risen Christ is never meant to terminate on itself. It is meant to propel us outward in mission. Our testimony is to be the same as Mary's: "I have seen the Lord." We have met Him in His Word. We have known His power in our lives. He is not a dead hero, but a living King. And because He is ascending to His Father and our Father, we are now part of the family, tasked with announcing this good news to the whole world, until the day He returns to wipe away every tear from our eyes for good.