In Summary: * Change of plans: I've been looking forward to following Notre Dame basketball tonight, but I was given wrong information by Tunein Streaming Radio service. That game is really scheduled for Wednesday, NOT tonight. So I'll be watching an NBA game tonight: Timberwolves vs Grizzlies, starting in just a few minutes. And I'll finish my night prayers at halftime, then head to bed after the game.

Prayers, etc.: *I have a daily prayer regimen I try to follow throughout the day from early morning, as soon as I roll out of bed, until head hits pillow at night. Details of that regimen are linked to my link tree, which is linked to my profile page here.

Health Metrics: * bw= 226.08 lbs. * bp= 141/85 (61)

Exercise: * morning stretches, balance exercises, kegel pelvic floor exercises, half squats, calf raises, wall push-ups

Diet: * 07:00 – 1 peanut butter sandwich, 2 little tangerines * 10:00 – cheese and crackers * 12:15 – pizza * 14:00 – 1 fresh apple

Activities, Chores, etc.: * 04:00 – listen to local news talk radio * 05:30 – bank accounts activity monitored * 06:00 – read, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials, nap * 12:00 – watch old game shows and eat lunch at home with Sylvia * 13:00 – read, pray, follow news reports from various sources, surf the socials * 15:00 – listening to the The Jack Riccardi Show * 17:00 – have tuned in to Sports Radio 960, South Bend, Indiana, the home for Notre Dame Football, and Basketball, ahead of tonight's basketball game vs. the Louisville Cardinals. * 18:05 – It was fun listening to Sports Radio 960 from South Bend this evening, but it became obvious they weren't going to be broadcasting a Notre Dame game tonight. Because that game against Louisville is scheduled for Wednesday night, NOT tonight. Darn TuneIn streaming service, they've really disappointed me!

Chess: * 13:30 – moved in all pending CC games

I blogged the progress of building this cane as I was recovering from back surgery, and now it’s finished. Ash, a narrow strip of granadillo, white grain filler on the handle, and 7 coats of Tru-Oil to finish it. The diameter of the shaft is close to 1¼ inches (31mm).

I'm giving it to an acquaintance from the local farmers market this afternoon, who saw me with my cane on August 29, and said that he’d like one like it, so I made two. The other is still unfinished, but I’ll wrap it up over the next week or so.

#project

Today’s 90 minutes of shop time started with some shaping of the handle. I dry fit the shaft into the handle, and then shaped the piece of granadillo so all the curves were smooth.

Then I got out the mallet, and pounded the live oak peg through the holes in the handle and the shaft. They were ¼ inch (6mm) holes, with the one in the shaft offset by 1mm toward the shoulder of the joint. As you can see, I mushroomed the last bit of the peg pretty severely.

The pointy end of the peg got bent somewhat by its trip through the holes. Note that I tapered only the first ¼ to ⅜ inch of the peg, and then soaked it for about a half-hour in almost-boiling water. That softened the peg enough that I had some problems driving it home. I'm not sure if I recommend that or not, but Elia Bizzarri did study boiled joints and I think they're a solid thing, but maybe don't combine well with drawboring.

The tenon on the cane shaft was intentionally a bit long. After getting the joint together, I added some small wedges (of soft maple, I think) to fill gaps.

I also filled the tiny gaps around the peg with ash sawdust and CA glue.

Also filled around the tenon.

And after some sanding to clean things up, I put another coat of oil on everything. I can still see a few spots where there’s open grain, so I think I need at least 3-4 more coats of Tru-Oil before I can call this done.

Overall, I think it’s looking pretty good, though.

Pour vaincre quelquefois la distance infinie son détour tape au corps, fiche un coup de tranchant plus vif que la lumière, jet d'une lame aussitôt déguisé en habile air de rien. Tout passant, sans le voir, continue son chemin, ignore qu'un désir se trame, que des rêves l'enlacent, et l'on ne sait qui, des uns, des autres, s'en va mourir vers le soir, troué par l'amour incertain.

Nombre d’occurrences : 14

#VoyageauLexique

Dans ce deuxième Voyage au Lexique, je continue d’explorer, en me gardant de les exploiter, les mots de Ma vie au village (in Journal de la brousse endormie) dont le nombre d’occurrences est significatif.

I finished up the carving on the shaft. Going to keep it simple, with just a single set of lines, rather than full checkering. Sanded with 220 grit to take out any dings or such that accumulated while I was carving, then a coat of Tru-Oil. Note that the shaft appears darker than the handle. My expectation is that the colors will converge as I get more fine wood dust into the open grain of the shaft as I oil, then sand back with 0000 steel wool.

As for the handle, just some of the steel wool, then another coat of oil. There are a couple spots in the end grain that I’m not completely happy with the grain-filling so far, but I’m hoping that’ll get better as I put on more coats of oil.

Tomorrow is the joinery, I think.

It’s getting into the home stretch, I think. I sanded off (using 220 grit) the excess white grain-filler, then hit the handle with a coat of Tru-Oil, trying to avoid the areas that will be part of the joint, though I’ll be doing some carving / shaping there, so a little oil won’t be the end of the world.

The handle will get smoothed with 0000 steel wool tomorrow, then another coat of Tru-Oil. I’m hoping for 8-10 coats, since that’s where it really starts to shine, based on previous experience. This probably means I’m going to need to get out to the shop two or three times a day the rest of this week. I’m thinking I’ll do the joinery on Wednesday, so I can get a few coats of finish on the areas of the handle and shaft I’ll be carving so they meet up smoothly.

Then I set up the shaft of the cane in the carving vise, and put two horizontal grooves around the top of the shaft, and connected them with lines in one direction using gunstock checkering tools. I haven’t decided if I’m going to complete the checkering tomorrow or what exactly, but even this will be a nice decorative touch. The lines were spaced with an 18lpi tool.

Our Father Who art in heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

After section 11, I got asked by some woodworking friends about how one grips a cane, and how the physics of the joint work. Specifically:

How does one grab that, hand behind the shaft or does one wrap the index finger around the front portion?

And:

I've never required the need for a cane, but my two cents for what it's worth: regarding the question asked by Mr. Splinter, it would seem to me that the cane should be held with the hand centered over the shaft. This would reduce or eliminate the handle being pushed down on one side, thus this lever action might loosen the joint, or elongate the mortise. What do you think?

I answered as follows:

On my cane, I grip it as I described earlier, with my index finger either pointing down the shaft, or slightly ahead of it. One gal I know holds her cane “backwards” so the heel of her hand is directly over the shaft. It works for her, but I find it hugely uncomfortable.

As for torque on the joint, yes, that’s a possibility, but I’m drawboring the joint, so the shoulder around the tenon should be tight against the cheeks of the mortise, and I’ll stick wedges around the tenon to take up any looseness in the mortise before I drive in the drawbore peg. That’s the same technique I used on mine, and with almost a decade of on and off use, plus moving from MN to NM and having all the wood shrink from the dry, the joint is still rock solid.

I would be a little concerned about the joint if he were going to take the cane to somewhere soupy like Houston or Nawlins after it was built here in the desert, but the monsoon this summer has kept our dewpoints above the mid-40s all summer, so the wood is not as bone-dry as usual.

The only way I can think of to make the joint more solid would be to boil the joint, but that’s a one-and-done technique, and I don’t trust myself to get it perfect on the first try. I will be boiling the (live oak) trenail that will be holding the joint together (along with some glue), and as that dries, it should try to straighten out and pull the joint even more tightly together.

But yeah, in a perfect world, (along with the spherical cows and frictionless floors from my freshman physics course) the weight from your arm would be in a mostly straight line down the shaft. Then again, I’m overbuilding this fairly seriously, and it’s not as if it’s a completely original design.

The Sweet Decision

Werewolf pie on my mind A destination like the lumen And Apple making this accord Befitted to Matthew and watching Mr. Bean History berserk and here The land itself takes cover Reluctant flame for the poor And six-aground for keeping company Postage in arrears And not afraid of destined acres We fortune for the swan- and have a day of vitiligo Erin’s war on repeat I worship Christ as free And indecisive to my generation- The polygon on to begin their deceit I am waking information in early writing Utah can’t stand to see That victory is not a poem And I stand with Vatnajökull I stand with grace and its waters Fit to the moon by Prozac And destiny of Greece for the lander This Coptic lander- Earth shall be our cause of rain No other substance here A decade of regret and far from swimming If this is over I am frozen- and wish to get going Time is fit for England- Ben beknows a chime Ringing for every widget A single man Radiation poor But substance R- The vibrancy of the account And we are all the same By birth especially And a blessing from every Angel Fitted with screen-wrist I sit wholly as a peer And watch things Wheeled and footed; paws Special coats for singing And the East apology- For being communist et al This is misery’s deck A place to heal In third and three Rome thy neighbour Will baptize you in earnest Full force in effect The gates of Heaven- enter As Christ allows For many hearts are weary And quite alone.

Rain For The Origin

To a Quaker and then Life as a burning Christian This simple man on catapult Echoing catastrophe And circuiting calls- Three years of solid altar Fit for a day to remember I rodded you to ninth DE The Godhead saw And polished driving rain In Christ’s true presence A victim days few And in Earth relieve- An extra day to extinguish The fog and flames of anxiety And solid amber to our day Especially in our car- Who begged the esteem But a distance to the partial Our electric in parity For the Ford and expectant to be No recreant or madness be It is a special year to see the star And then we seek a world Like this miracle Everyone as one- Even there, Thereafter.

Observation from the ramparts of beauty.

Antibes—

Many men have died here.

And every one truly lived—

For how can one be amidst Such beauty and not have felt The hand of God And His lips upon The forehead.

---

#poetry #romancingiberia #france #antibes

“In returning and resting you will be saved; in quietness and trust will be your strength.”

“Woe to the stubborn sons,” declares Jehovah,

JEHOVAH:

“Who carry out plans that are not mine, Who make alliances, but not by my spirit, In order to add sin to sin.

They go down to Egypt without consulting me, To take shelter under Pharoh’s protection And to take refuge in the shadow of Egypt!

But the protection of Pharoh will become for you a reason for shame, And refuge in Egypt’s shadow a cause for humiliation.

For his princes are in Zoan, And his envoys have reached Hanes.

They will all be put to shame By a people who can bring no benefit to them, Who offer no help and no benefit, Only shame and disgrace.”

NARRATOR:

A pronouncement against the beasts of the south:

Through the land of distress and hardship, Of the lion, the roaring lion, Of the viper and the flying fiery snake, They carry their wealth on the backs of donkeys And their supplies on the humps of camels. But these things will not benefit the people.

For Egypt’s help is completely useless. So I have called this one: “Rahab, who sits still.”

JEHOVAH:

“Now go, write it on a tablet in their presence, And inscribe it in a book, So that it may serve for a future day As a permanent witness.

For they are a rebellious people, deceitful sons, Sons who are unwilling to hear the law of Jehovah.

They say to the seers, ‘Do not see,’ And to the visionaries, ‘Do not tell us truthful visions. Tell us flattering things; envision deceptive illusions. Turn aside from the way; deviate from the path. Quit putting before us the Holy One of Israel.’”

“Since you reject this word And you trust in fraud and deceit And you rely on these,

So this error will be for you like a broken wall, Like a bulging high wall ready to fall. It will crash suddenly, in an instant. It will be broken like a large potter’s jar, So completely smashed that no fragment among its pieces will be left To rake the fire from the fireplace Or to scoop water from a puddle.”

“For by returning to me and resting, you will be saved; Your strength will be in keeping calm and showing trust.” But you were unwilling.

Instead, you said: “No, we will flee on horses!” So flee you will. “And on swift horses we will ride!” So those pursuing you will be swift.

A thousand will tremble at the threat of one; At the threat of five you will flee Until what is left of you is like a mast on the top of a mountain, Like a signal pole on a hill.

But Jehovah is waiting patiently to show you favor, And he will rise up to show you mercy. For Jehovah is a God of justice. Happy are all those keeping in expectation of him.

NARRATOR:

When the people dwell in Zion, in Jerusalem, you will by no means weep. He will surely show you favor at the sound of your cry for help; He will answer you as soon as he hears it.

Though Jehovah will give you bread in the form of distress And water in the form of oppression, Your Grand Instructor will no longer hide himself, And you will see your Grand Instructor with your own eyes.

And your own ears will hear a word behind you saying, “This is the way. Walk in it,” In case you should go to the right or in case you should go to the left.

And you will defile the silver overlay of your graven images And the golden plating of your metal statues. You will cast them away like a menstrual cloth And say to them, “Be gone!”

And he will give the rain for the seed you sow in the ground, And the bread that the ground produces will be abundant and rich. In that day your livestock will graze in spacious pastures.

And the cattle and the donkeys that work the ground Will eat fodder seasoned with sorrel, Which was winnowed with the shovel and the pitchfork.

And on every tall mountain and on every high hill Will be streams and watercourses, In the day of the great slaughter when the towers fall.

And the light of the full moon will become like the light of the sun; And the light of the sun will become seven times stronger, Like the light of seven days, In the day that Jehovah binds up the breakdown of his people And heals the severe wound from the blow he inflicted.

Look! The name of Jehovah is coming from far away, Burning with his anger and with heavy clouds. His lips are full of indignation, And his tongue is like a consuming fire.

His spirit is like a flooding torrent that reaches clear to the neck, To shake the nations in a sieve of destruction; And the peoples will have a bridle in their jaws that leads them astray.

But your song will be like the one sung in the night When you prepare for a festival, And your heart will rejoice like one Who walks with a flute On his way to the mountain of Jehovah, to the Rock of Israel.

Jehovah will make his majestic voice heard And reveal his arm as it descends in the heat of anger, With the flame of a consuming fire, A cloudburst and a thunderstorm and hailstones.

For because of the voice of Jehovah, Assyria will be struck with terror; He will strike it with a rod.

And every swing of his rod of punishment That Jehovah will bring down on Assyria Will be accompanied by tambourines and harps As he brandishes his arm against them in battle.

For his Topheth is already prepared; It is also made ready for the king. He has made the woodpile deep and wide, With an abundance of fire and wood. The breath of Jehovah, like a torrent of sulfur, Will set fire to it.

---

ISAIAH:

Woe to those who go down to Egypt for assistance, Who rely on horses, Who trust in war chariots because they are numerous, And in warhorses because they are mighty. But they do not look to the Holy One of Israel, And they do not search for Jehovah.

But he is also wise and will bring calamity, And he will not take back his words. He will rise up against the house of evildoers And against those who help wrongdoers.

The Egyptians, though, are mere men and not God; Their horses are flesh and not spirit. When Jehovah stretches out his hand, Whoever offers help will stumble And whoever is helped will fall; They will all perish at the same time.

JEHOVAH:

“Just as the lion growls, a strong young lion, over its prey, When a whole group of shepherds is called together against it, And it is not terrified by their voice Or daunted by their commotion, So will Jehovah of armies come down to wage war Over Mount Zion and over her hill.

Like swooping birds, so Jehovah of armies will defend Jerusalem. He will defend her and save her. He will spare her and rescue her.”

ISAIAH:

“Return to the One against whom you have blatantly revolted, O people of Israel. For in that day each one will reject his worthless gods of silver And his valueless gods of gold, Which your own hands sinfully made.

And the Assyrian will fall by the sword, not of a man; And a sword, not of a human, will devour him. He will flee because of the sword, And his young men will be put to forced labor.

His crag will pass away because of sheer fright, And his princes will be terrified because of the signal pole,”

NARRATOR:

Declares Jehovah, Whose light is in Zion and whose furnace is in Jerusalem.

---

NARRATOR:

Look! A king will reign for righteousness, And princes will rule for justice.

And each one will be like a hiding place from the wind, A place of concealment from the rainstorm, Like streams of water in a waterless land, Like the shadow of a massive crag in a parched land.

Then the eyes of those seeing will no longer be pasted shut, And the ears of those hearing will pay attention.

The heart of those who are impetuous will ponder over knowledge, And the stammering tongue will speak fluently and clearly.

The senseless one will no longer be called generous, And the unprincipled man will not be called noble;

For the senseless one will speak nonsense, And his heart will devise harmful things, To promote apostasy and to speak what is wayward against Jehovah, To cause the hungry one to go unfed And to deprive the thirsty one of something to drink.

The devices of the unprincipled man are bad; He promotes shameful conduct To ruin the afflicted one with lies, Even when the poor speaks what is right.

But the generous one has generous intentions, And in generous endeavors he perseveres.

JEHOVAH:

“You complacent women, get up and listen to my voice! You carefree daughters, pay attention to what I say!

In a little over a year, you who are carefree will shudder, Because no fruit will have been gathered when the grape harvest ends.

Tremble, you complacent women! Shudder, you who are carefree! Strip yourselves bare, And put sackcloth around your hips.

Beat your breasts in lamentation Over the desirable fields and the fruitful vine.

For the ground of my people will be covered with thorns and briars; They will cover all the houses of rejoicing, Yes, the city of exultation.

For the fortified tower has been forsaken; The noisy city has been abandoned. Ophel and the watchtower have become a permanent wasteland, A delight for wild donkeys, A pasture for the flocks,

Until the spirit is poured out on us from above, And the wilderness becomes an orchard, And the orchard is regarded as a forest.

Then justice will reside in the wilderness, And righteousness will dwell in the orchard.

The result of true righteousness will be peace, And the fruitage of true righteousness will be lasting tranquility and security.

My people will dwell in a peaceful abiding place, In secure dwellings and in tranquil resting-places.

But the hail will flatten the forest, And the city will be completely leveled.

Happy are you who sow seed alongside all waters, Who send out the bull and the donkey.”

Hello the full moon shone alone today on the deep dark blue sky, like a silver coin.

except silver coins do not radiate light, but neither does the moon.

I’m picturing the type of coins one might have on the tongue or even on the eyelids, I’m sure it would feel cool to have such coins on there, when paying passage on the river Styx.

Except when you are dead, you are cold too, and you don’t feel anything

But still the moon coins you would feel, I am sure.

So there I stand lazily, letting the dogs pee on the snow just outside the door

It’s more yellow now than white

Not the door, the snow.

And it’s cold so we all agree to quickly return outside to the soft warm bed

Maybe I shall be able to sleep tonight

Having finally called a toad a toad

And for how terrible it feels

Still and yet a great relief sets on me tonight

As I lay here guarded by this silver coin

Go Irish!

It was fun listening to Sports Radio 960 from South Bend this evening, but it became obvious they weren't going to be broadcasting a Notre Dame game tonight. Because that game against Louisville is scheduled for Wednesday night, NOT tonight. Darn TuneIn streaming service, they've really disappointed me!

And the adventure continues.

A wayward woman tempted me to flatter her. The seas slapped me down. I waved for help but my arm hung limp. Hearing my cry, the sylph cackled and left. I wormed landward, crooked and complaining that all always goes against me. X-rays and insurers scanned my split spine. Both declared me a total loss and packed me off for home. My neighbors leaned out, hoping I would sing. They closed their windows against my ghastly voice. Agnes, my wife, stared hard out our window and refused to leave me alone. Our child’s new bike bell rang out as she complained that I am her misery. Agnes stared me down until my last claim was denied and my breath rattled. Drowning would have kept my love alive.

There are mornings that change everything, and then there is the morning described in Mark 16. It is not a triumphant parade or a grand announcement. It begins quietly, with grief still in the air and fear still heavy in the lungs. The women who walk toward the tomb are not walking in hope. They are walking in loyalty. They are not expecting a miracle. They are expecting a body. Their faith, at that moment, is not loud or confident. It is tired. It is wounded. It is the kind of faith that shows up anyway, even when it assumes the story has ended in loss. That detail alone reshapes how we understand resurrection. God does not wait for perfect belief before acting. He meets people in their assumption of defeat and rewrites the conclusion without consulting their despair.

Mark’s account is famously brief compared to the other Gospels, and yet that brevity is part of its power. It feels rushed, almost urgent, as though language itself is struggling to keep up with what has happened. There is no long speech from Jesus, no drawn-out description of angels, no lingering scene of reunion at the tomb. Instead, there is shock, confusion, instruction, and fear. The stone is already rolled away. The tomb is already empty. The miracle has already happened before anyone arrives to witness it. Resurrection is presented not as a spectacle but as a fact. The world has changed while the disciples were still sleeping in grief.

The women come with spices, prepared to preserve a body that should not be there anymore. Their concern is practical and human: who will roll away the stone? They do not say, “How will God raise Him?” They say, “How will we move the obstacle?” This is how most of us live. We are preoccupied with logistics while God is occupied with transformation. We worry about the stone, not realizing heaven has already handled it. The stone, in this story, is not rolled away to let Jesus out. It is rolled away to let witnesses in. Resurrection does not need human permission. It only invites human discovery.

Inside the tomb, they do not find a corpse but a message. A young man in white tells them that Jesus is not there and instructs them to go and tell His disciples and Peter that He is going ahead of them into Galilee. That line, “and Peter,” is one of the quietest acts of mercy in Scripture. Peter is not just one of the disciples at this point; he is the disciple who denied Jesus three times. He is the disciple who collapsed under fear when courage was demanded. By naming Peter specifically, the resurrection announcement becomes personal. It says that failure has not disqualified him from the future. The risen Christ is not gathering only the loyal. He is calling back the broken. Resurrection is not only about a body coming back to life. It is about relationships being restored.

This is where Mark 16 begins to confront the inner life of the believer. The resurrection does not erase fear instantly. The women flee trembling and bewildered. They say nothing to anyone at first, because they are afraid. That detail matters. It tells us that encountering God’s power does not always produce instant bravery. Sometimes it produces shock. Sometimes it produces silence. Faith does not arrive fully formed in a single moment. It often arrives as a trembling realization that something impossible has happened and that life will never be the same again. The Gospel does not shame their fear. It records it honestly.

From there, the narrative moves into appearances of Jesus and reactions to those appearances. He first appears to Mary Magdalene, the one from whom He had cast out seven demons. She goes and tells the others, and they do not believe her. This pattern repeats. Jesus appears to two disciples walking in the country, and they report it, and still the others do not believe. Resurrection is not instantly persuasive, even when delivered by eyewitnesses. The human heart resists hope when it has been trained by loss. This makes the disciples painfully relatable. They are not heroic figures standing ready for glory. They are people who have learned how to survive disappointment.

When Jesus finally appears to the Eleven, He rebukes them for their lack of faith and stubborn refusal to believe those who had seen Him. This is not a gentle correction. It is a confrontation. Resurrection demands response. It does not allow us to remain safely skeptical forever. The risen Christ does not merely comfort them; He commissions them. He tells them to go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation. The command is global and urgent. What was once a small group huddled in fear is now assigned to the whole planet. Resurrection expands responsibility. If death has been defeated, then silence becomes a form of disobedience.

What follows in Mark 16 is a set of promises that have often been misunderstood. Signs will accompany those who believe: driving out demons, speaking in new tongues, picking up snakes, drinking deadly poison without harm, laying hands on the sick and seeing them recover. These lines have been turned into spectacle by some and dismissed entirely by others. But in context, they are not meant to be a checklist of stunts. They are meant to show that the life of resurrection spills outward into real power over what once enslaved humanity. Evil does not get the final word. Fear does not get the final word. Death does not get the final word. The point is not to seek danger. The point is to show that danger no longer has ultimate authority.

The chapter ends with Jesus being taken up into heaven and the disciples going out and preaching everywhere, with the Lord working with them and confirming the word by accompanying signs. The final image is not Jesus standing alone in glory but Jesus working with ordinary people in motion. Resurrection is not the end of the story. It is the engine that drives the mission forward. The risen Christ does not isolate Himself from human struggle. He partners with it. Heaven does not retreat from earth after Easter. It advances into it.

What makes Mark 16 uniquely haunting is its emotional texture. It does not read like a victory speech. It reads like a moment of rupture. The old categories no longer work. The disciples have to rethink everything: their fear, their purpose, their future. They have to move from hiding to proclaiming, from mourning to marching. Resurrection does not simply add a happy ending to the crucifixion. It creates a new kind of existence where death is no longer the ultimate boundary.

For the modern reader, this chapter challenges a quiet but deadly assumption: that faith is mainly about coping. Mark 16 insists that faith is about transformation. The resurrection does not tell us how to survive suffering more gracefully. It tells us that suffering is not sovereign. The empty tomb is not a symbol of emotional resilience. It is a declaration of cosmic upheaval. Something fundamental about reality has shifted.

We often treat resurrection as a metaphor, a poetic way of talking about new beginnings. But Mark refuses to let it stay metaphorical. The tomb is physically empty. The body is physically gone. The disciples are physically sent. Christianity is not built on a lesson. It is built on an interruption. History itself is interrupted by a man who will not stay dead. That interruption creates a ripple effect that moves outward through frightened women, skeptical disciples, and eventually into cities and empires.

Mark 16 also confronts the idea that faith should feel safe. Nothing about this chapter is safe. The women are afraid. The disciples are rebuked. The mission is overwhelming. The signs are dangerous. Resurrection does not produce a tranquil spiritual hobby. It produces a risky vocation. To believe that Jesus rose from the dead is to accept that life can never be reduced to comfort again. If death has been defeated, then fear loses its ultimate leverage. That does not make life painless. It makes it purposeful.

One of the quiet tragedies in modern Christianity is that we often celebrate Easter once a year and then return to living as though the tomb is still sealed. We sing about victory and then organize our lives around avoidance. Mark 16 will not let us do that. It insists that resurrection is not a seasonal doctrine. It is a daily disturbance. Every plan, every fear, every excuse has to be reevaluated in light of an empty grave.

The women’s initial silence, the disciples’ initial unbelief, and Jesus’ eventual commission form a pattern that mirrors the human journey into faith. First comes shock. Then comes resistance. Then comes responsibility. God does not demand instant mastery of belief. He demands movement. “Go,” Jesus says. Not “understand everything.” Not “feel ready.” Go. Resurrection is not primarily about internal certainty. It is about outward obedience.

There is also something profoundly humbling in the way Mark portrays the witnesses. The first messenger is a woman whose past was defined by possession. The next messengers are two unnamed travelers. The final messengers are a group of men who had already failed spectacularly. God entrusts the announcement of the greatest event in history to people with fragile credibility. This is not accidental. It shows that the power of the message does not depend on the perfection of the messenger. Resurrection does not recruit the impressive. It redeems the available.

When Jesus tells them that signs will follow believers, He is not promising entertainment. He is promising evidence that the kingdom of God has invaded a hostile world. Casting out demons means liberation. Speaking in new tongues means communication beyond old barriers. Healing the sick means the restoration of what decay has claimed. These are not tricks. They are previews of a future where everything broken is being put back together. The resurrection is not only backward-looking, proving Jesus’ identity. It is forward-looking, revealing what creation is becoming.

In this sense, Mark 16 is not just about what happened to Jesus. It is about what is happening to the world. The resurrection marks the beginning of a long reversal. Death begins to lose its monopoly. Evil begins to lose its secrecy. Fear begins to lose its authority. The disciples do not suddenly become fearless heroes, but they do become witnesses. And that is the crucial shift. They stop interpreting events only through their own disappointment and begin interpreting them through God’s victory.

The instruction to go into all the world carries an implication that is easy to miss. Resurrection is not a private miracle. It is public truth. It cannot remain locked in a single culture or generation. It demands translation into every language and every life. The Gospel is not meant to be preserved like an artifact. It is meant to be proclaimed like a warning and a promise at the same time: warning that death is not final authority, and promise that life is stronger than the grave.

The ending of Mark, with its emphasis on the disciples going out and the Lord working with them, shows that resurrection is not a static event. It is an ongoing collaboration between heaven and earth. Jesus does not simply ascend and leave them with instructions. He continues to act through them. This is the scandal and the hope of Christianity: that God chooses to express His power through human obedience. The resurrection does not bypass human history. It moves through it.

For someone standing at the edge of despair, Mark 16 offers a strange kind of comfort. It does not say that grief will vanish instantly. It shows people who are still afraid, still doubting, still confused. And yet it insists that those people are exactly the ones God sends. You do not have to feel brave to be called. You do not have to feel pure to be trusted. You do not have to feel certain to be commissioned. Resurrection does not wait for emotional readiness. It creates moral urgency.

The empty tomb also reframes the meaning of endings. What looked like a conclusion on Friday becomes a threshold on Sunday. This is not just a theological insight. It is a psychological revolution. If God can turn a sealed grave into a doorway, then no situation is as closed as it appears. This does not guarantee specific outcomes in our personal stories, but it does guarantee that God is not confined by visible defeat. Mark 16 teaches us to mistrust appearances when God has already spoken.

The rebuke Jesus gives the disciples for their unbelief is also an act of love. He does not rebuke them to shame them but to free them. Unbelief traps them in Friday. Belief sends them into the future. Resurrection is not simply about convincing the mind. It is about releasing the will. Once they accept that He is alive, they can no longer justify hiding. The risen Christ pulls them out of the room where fear has been their only companion.

There is a paradox in the way Mark presents the resurrection: it is both terrifying and empowering. The women flee in fear, and the disciples are rebuked, and yet they are sent with authority. This combination resists sentimental religion. It tells us that encountering God is not always soothing. Sometimes it is destabilizing. It dismantles our strategies for self-protection. It exposes the smallness of our expectations. Resurrection does not make life smaller and safer. It makes it larger and riskier.

One of the most striking elements of Mark 16 is how quickly it moves from miracle to mission. There is no extended scene of worship at the tomb. There is instruction. There is movement. There is a future. This suggests that the proper response to resurrection is not endless reflection but faithful action. Theology that does not turn into obedience becomes a form of delay. The disciples are not told to build a shrine at the empty tomb. They are told to go into the world.

In this way, Mark 16 exposes a tension in religious life. We often want resurrection without responsibility. We want hope without cost. We want victory without vulnerability. But the chapter does not separate these things. The power that raises Jesus from the dead also sends His followers into danger, misunderstanding, and sacrifice. Resurrection is not an escape from the world. It is a reentry into it with a different allegiance.

The promise that believers will lay hands on the sick and they will recover speaks to a deeper truth about the nature of Christian life. It is meant to be participatory. God does not only heal from a distance. He heals through human touch. He does not only speak from heaven. He speaks through human mouths. Resurrection is not just something to be admired. It is something to be embodied.

Mark 16 ends not with a vision of heaven but with a description of activity on earth. The disciples go out. The Lord works with them. Signs confirm the word. This is a vision of a world slowly being reinterpreted through the lens of a risen Christ. Every sermon, every healing, every act of courage becomes a small echo of the empty tomb. The resurrection does not remain locked in history. It migrates into human lives.

What Mark 16 ultimately confronts is the question of whether we are willing to live as though Jesus is alive or merely speak as though He once was. The difference is not subtle. To speak of Him as a past figure is to keep faith contained in memory. To live as though He is alive is to allow faith to intrude into decisions, relationships, and risks. Resurrection is not only a claim about Jesus’ body. It is a claim about our lives. It insists that something new is possible, and therefore something new is required.

The chapter leaves us with a sense of motion rather than closure. There is no scene of peaceful retirement. There is no suggestion that the story is finished. Instead, there is a world waiting to hear, and a group of flawed people sent to tell it. Resurrection does not conclude the Gospel. It explodes it outward. The tomb is empty so that the road can be full.

In the silence after the women flee, in the stubborn unbelief of the disciples, in the sharp rebuke of Jesus, and in the vast command to go into all the world, Mark 16 shows us what faith looks like when it is born in shock rather than certainty. It is messy. It is hesitant. It is confrontational. And it is unstoppable. The morning that refused to stay dead becomes the day that refuses to let the world remain the same.

This is not a chapter meant to be admired from a distance. It is meant to be entered. It asks whether we will remain among those who assume the body is still there or become among those who carry the news that it is not. It does not offer comfort without calling. It does not offer belief without burden. It offers a risen Christ and a world that must be told about Him.

And in that offer lies the true weight of Mark 16. It is not simply the story of what God did to Jesus. It is the beginning of what God will do through those who believe that death has been defeated and that fear no longer owns the future.

The resurrection narrative in Mark 16 does not merely announce that Jesus lives. It rearranges the logic by which life itself is interpreted. Before this moment, death functioned as the ultimate full stop. After this moment, death becomes a comma. The story continues. The women arrive expecting to tend a corpse, and instead they are confronted with a command. They are told to go. That shift from tending the past to announcing the future is one of the most radical reorientations a human being can experience. Grief looks backward. Resurrection points forward. Mark places his readers right inside that pivot point, where sorrow is still fresh but the horizon has suddenly widened.

What is striking is how little emotional resolution the chapter offers. There is no drawn-out scene of reunion, no poetic exchange between Jesus and the women, no lyrical speech about victory. The narrative seems almost impatient. It is as if Mark refuses to let the reader linger at the tomb. The empty grave is not meant to become a destination. It is meant to become a departure point. The resurrection does not ask to be admired. It asks to be obeyed.

This is why the command to go into all the world carries such weight. It is not simply a missionary instruction. It is a declaration that the meaning of Jesus’ life and death cannot remain local. What happened in a borrowed tomb outside Jerusalem is meant to reinterpret reality in every city and every generation. Resurrection is not a private miracle for a small group of friends. It is a public upheaval meant to destabilize the empire of despair wherever it exists.

There is a subtle but powerful implication in the phrase “all creation.” The gospel is not only for human hearts. It is for the entire created order that has been subjected to decay. Disease, demonic influence, fear, and death itself are all treated as enemies that now face an announced defeat. The signs that follow believers are not about proving superiority. They are about revealing the direction of history. The trajectory is away from bondage and toward restoration. The resurrection does not only rescue souls. It announces a future in which everything broken is being addressed.

When Jesus rebukes the disciples for their unbelief, He is not rejecting them. He is preparing them. Skepticism may feel intellectually responsible, but in this moment it becomes morally obstructive. Their refusal to believe the witnesses keeps them trapped in fear. Resurrection demands a decision. Either the world is still governed by death, or it is being quietly overruled by life. The rebuke is not about humiliation. It is about liberation. They cannot be sent into the world while they still think the tomb has the last word.

One of the most overlooked features of Mark 16 is how quickly Jesus moves from proof to purpose. He does not offer them extended evidence sessions. He offers them direction. This suggests that the credibility of the resurrection is not meant to rest solely on argument but on impact. The world will be persuaded not just by testimony but by transformation. Lives changed by the reality of a risen Christ become living arguments against the finality of death.

The promise that believers will cast out demons and heal the sick must be read within this framework. These actions are not isolated wonders. They are acts of rebellion against the old order. To drive out a demon is to declare that spiritual tyranny does not own human lives. To heal the sick is to announce that decay is not the ultimate destiny of flesh. Each sign is a small protest against a world organized around fear and deterioration. Resurrection theology becomes resurrection practice.

Mark’s ending emphasizes that the Lord works with them. This is a quiet but profound line. It means that Jesus’ ascension is not an abandonment. It is a change in the mode of presence. He no longer walks beside them physically, but He remains active through them spiritually. The mission is not a human project with divine approval. It is a divine project with human participation. Resurrection does not mean Jesus retreats into heaven and leaves the world to fend for itself. It means heaven begins to act through ordinary lives.

This has enormous implications for how faith is lived. If Jesus is alive and active, then belief is not simply intellectual assent. It is relational trust. The disciples are not asked to remember Him as a hero of the past. They are asked to cooperate with Him as a living Lord. This transforms obedience from rule-following into partnership. It also transforms risk into meaning. Danger does not disappear. It becomes purposeful. Suffering does not vanish. It becomes redemptive.

Mark 16 also confronts the idea that doubt disqualifies. The first witnesses hesitate. The disciples resist belief. And yet these same people become the carriers of the message. The resurrection does not wait for flawless faith. It recruits hesitant hearts. This is deeply important for anyone who feels unworthy of calling. The Gospel does not say that God chooses only the confident. It shows that God reshapes the fearful into messengers.

The initial silence of the women is often seen as a weakness, but it can also be understood as realism. Encountering something that overturns every assumption does not produce instant eloquence. It produces awe. Fear here is not cowardice. It is the body’s response to a reality too large to process. Resurrection is not a small idea. It shatters categories. That kind of shock takes time to translate into speech.

Yet speech eventually comes. The message spreads. The disciples go out. The story moves forward. This movement is essential. Faith that never leaves the place of shock becomes paralysis. Faith that moves becomes witness. Mark shows us the transition from stunned silence to active proclamation. That is the arc of resurrection life.

What makes this chapter especially relevant in every age is its insistence that belief must be embodied. The gospel is not simply a set of propositions to be agreed with. It is a life to be lived. The disciples are not instructed to form a school of philosophy. They are instructed to go into the world. Resurrection is not merely about understanding. It is about direction.

This is where Mark 16 collides with modern spirituality. Many contemporary approaches to faith focus on internal peace and personal fulfillment. Mark’s resurrection narrative points outward. It calls for public allegiance. It demands visible obedience. The risen Christ does not simply comfort private souls. He sends public witnesses. Faith becomes something that shows up in words, actions, and courage.

The promise that believers will not be ultimately harmed by serpents or poison is not an invitation to recklessness. It is a declaration of security. Life is no longer defined by vulnerability alone. It is defined by trust. The believer does not become invincible, but the believer becomes unowned by fear. Death may still arrive, but it no longer controls the meaning of existence. Resurrection has redefined what loss can do.

Mark 16 thus presents Christianity not as a system of consolation but as a revolution of hope. It does not say that pain will be removed immediately. It says that pain will no longer be sovereign. It does not promise ease. It promises purpose. The empty tomb does not erase the scars. It reframes them.

One of the most profound effects of resurrection is how it transforms memory. The disciples do not forget the crucifixion. They reinterpret it. What looked like defeat becomes sacrifice. What looked like abandonment becomes obedience. Resurrection does not cancel the cross. It completes its meaning. The story of Jesus is not one of escape from suffering but of triumph through it.

This has implications for how believers interpret their own lives. Loss does not disappear when faith arrives. But loss is no longer the ultimate narrator. The resurrection introduces a new voice into the story, one that speaks of future restoration even in the presence of present grief. Mark 16 teaches us that God’s greatest work often happens while humans are still preparing spices for burial. The miracle occurs before it is recognized.

The command to preach to all creation also implies that resurrection is not meant to remain abstract. It must be translated into language, culture, and relationship. The gospel is not a frozen message. It is a living announcement that adapts without losing its core. The resurrection does not belong to one generation or one style of worship. It belongs to the world.

Mark’s ending leaves the reader with a sense of unfinished motion. The disciples go out. The Lord works with them. Signs accompany the word. There is no tidy resolution. The story does not close. It opens. The resurrection is not the final chapter. It is the hinge that swings the door outward into history.

This unfinished quality invites participation. The reader is not merely observing what happened. The reader is being asked what will happen next. Will the message be carried forward? Will fear be allowed to silence testimony? Will belief remain an idea, or will it become a life? Mark 16 does not answer these questions. It hands them to the next generation.

In this way, the resurrection is not just an event to be believed. It is a future to be entered. The tomb is empty so that the road can be full of witnesses. The chapter does not end with Jesus standing alone in glory. It ends with ordinary people walking into the world with extraordinary news.

The final image is not one of closure but of continuity. Heaven and earth are now linked by a living Christ who works with those He sends. Resurrection becomes the ongoing reality of a God who refuses to leave the world as it is. Every act of obedience becomes a small extension of Easter morning. Every word of testimony becomes an echo of the angel’s announcement: He is not here.

Mark 16 ultimately insists that Christianity cannot be reduced to nostalgia. It cannot survive as a memory of what Jesus once was. It must live as confidence in who He is. The risen Christ is not a relic. He is a presence. And that presence reshapes how courage, suffering, mission, and hope are understood.

The morning that refused to stay dead also refuses to let the world remain unchanged. It interrupts despair, confronts disbelief, and commissions the fearful. It turns mourners into messengers and skeptics into witnesses. It does not erase the past. It transforms the future.

This is the legacy of Mark 16. It is not a gentle conclusion to a tragic story. It is the ignition of a movement. The tomb is empty. The disciples are sent. The Lord is at work. And the world is no longer what it was.

What began as a walk toward a grave becomes a march toward every nation. What began in silence becomes proclamation. What began in fear becomes mission. Resurrection does not ask for applause. It asks for lives.

And that is why Mark’s account ends not with poetry but with action. The story does not settle. It spreads. The Gospel does not stop at the stone. It goes into the world.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube

Support the ministry by buying Douglas a coffee

#Mark16 #ResurrectionHope #EmptyTomb #FaithInAction #RisenChrist #GospelTruth #ChristianLiving #NewTestament #HopeOverFear #WitnessToTheWorld