The chair is still there. The person who used to sit in it is not.
You know the small things that belonged to that place: the way a hand rested on the table, a question asked before the meal, the sound of someone moving the chair back. An ordinary piece of furniture can hold the shape of a particular life.
You are not simply missing company. You are missing this person. A kind visitor, a full room, or a sincere word about hope may be welcome. None makes the familiar place at the table the same.
John’s resurrection story begins with someone looking for a particular person.
Mary Magdalene had stood near Jesus’ cross. Early on the first day of the week, she comes to his tomb and finds the stone removed. She tells Peter and the other disciple that Jesus has been taken away. After they visit the tomb and return home, Mary remains outside, weeping.
This is Mary Magdalene, a disciple and witness. She is distinct from Mary of Bethany, whom we met grieving her brother in John 11. John gives no reason to turn her tears into a failure of faith.
When angels ask why she is weeping, she answers:
Because they have taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they have laid him.
John 20:13, WEB
The words are about Jesus, whom she knows and loves. She wants to know where he is. When she turns and sees someone standing nearby, she thinks he is the gardener. The reader knows it is Jesus; Mary does not yet recognize him.
Jesus asks about her tears and whom she seeks. She asks him to tell her where the body has been laid.
Then:
Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
She turned and said to him, “Rabboni!” which is to say, “Teacher!”
John 20:16, WEB
One name, and she recognizes him.
The resurrection is more than the discovery that a tomb is empty. Mary meets the living Jesus, who speaks to her as someone he knows. Her tears and her questions have not kept her outside his attention.
Yet the story continues beyond this reunion. Jesus tells her not to hold him, speaks of his ascent to the Father, and sends her to the other disciples:
Don’t hold me, for I haven’t yet ascended to my Father; but go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’
John 20:17, WEB
Jesus speaks here of his resurrection and ascent, and gives Mary news to carry. His words are not an instruction for you to stop holding a memory or prove that you are ready to move on. Mary is sent as a witness to the risen Lord; she is not being measured on how quickly she finishes grieving.
Jesus says “my Father and your Father, my God and your God.” He calls the disciples his brothers and sends Mary to them with that news. She goes and tells them that she has seen the Lord. The reunion becomes a message for a community, not a moment Mary must preserve alone.
The Gospel does not present this new life as a return to the old arrangement, with Jesus remaining bodily beside Mary in the garden. Earlier, he had promised the Spirit’s enduring presence with the disciples (John 14:16-18). Later that day, he gives the Holy Spirit to the gathered disciples (John 20:22).
Jesus’ departure from the garden is not the end of God’s presence with his people. His promise of the Spirit gives them hope beyond a place where they can see and hold him.
Our losses do not repeat Mary’s morning. This passage does not promise that the person you miss will return to the table now, or that you will hear an audible voice saying your name. Christian hope rests in the risen Christ and his promise that his people will not be left alone.
That hope can hold an honest memory. God’s presence does not make the person you miss interchangeable. Belonging to God does not require you to call the empty chair full.
You may remember the familiar gesture, the ordinary conversation, or the things that were unfinished. You can bring that particular absence into prayer. The chair may still be empty when you finish. You can speak to the God who has promised to remain with his people, even when his presence is hard to feel.
Remember One Ordinary Detail
If you wish, name one ordinary detail you remember about the person you miss. Speak it privately to God or write one plain sentence beginning:
I remember ________.
Let the memory be honest. It may be tender, complicated, or both; you do not have to turn it into an ideal portrait. If no detail comes readily, you may simply tell God whom you miss and leave the prayer there.
Prayer
Risen Jesus, you met Mary in her tears and knew her by name. Receive my remembrance of the person I miss and the absence I cannot fill. Keep me close to you and to your people. Help me remember honestly, including what was tender and what was difficult. When your presence is hard to feel, receive the small prayer I can still bring. Amen.
Reflect
What ordinary detail could you remember before God without making it explain the loss?
Continue
Related: Lament Is Still Faith
Related: What Rest Looks Like After Loss
Related: How to Support a Grieving Friend Without Cliches
Next: When the Holidays Hurt
Scripture: John 20:11-18, World English Bible.
Written by: Ruth Caldwell
Scope: This devotional offers Christian spiritual support and education. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, treatment, therapy, or crisis services.