”Folded Cloths,” Pastor Ryan Matthews, April 4, 2026

Hello and welcome to church. We're so

glad that you were able to join us here

at the McDonald Road 7th Day Adventist

Church for our worship time. I hope that

your time is blessed. I hope the music

blesses your soul. I hope the message

touches your heart. And if if it does,

we would be honored if you would share

this content with somebody else so they

can be blessed as well. We're so glad

that you can be a part of our online

church here at McDonald Road and hope

that you are blessed in your worship

together with us today. God bless and

enjoy our worship service.

Good morning, church family, and happy

Sabbath.

>> And isn't a beautiful day outside? Even

though it's gray clouds outside, well,

I'm saying that as the sun comes out,

but the gray skies kind of make it feel

like it's just a little bit quieter

today, a little bit slower.

It's almost like the world itself is

pausing,

like everything is holding its breath.

And honestly, that's the kind of morning

that fits perfectly

is because the story we're stepping into

today

didn't begin with sunshine. It didn't

begin with a quiet. It began in the

stillness in a moment that felt heavy

like the sky itself was grieving.

An amazing event happened back in the

day, but before it became an amazing, it

felt like loss.

It felt like confusion. It felt like

everything had fallen apart.

And that's why this weekend matters.

because what we're about to talk about

took a moment that felt like dark and

uncertain and turned it into something

that changed everything.

So before we get to the light, before we

get to the celebration,

we have to sit in the weight of it.

Before we step in the tomb, we need to

sit in what just happened. Because

resurrection mourning doesn't begin with

celebration. It begins with a cross.

Jesus had just been crucified. The

shouting has faded. The crowd has

started to disperse. What was loud just

moments ago is now quiet.

It's too quiet. And then the words, "It

is finished."

And with those words, he breathes his

last. And the sky goes dark and the

earth begins to shake. And those who

followed him are left standing there

trying to make sense of what just

happened.

Because the one they believed in, the

one they left everything for, the one

they thought was going to change

everything is now lifeless.

And because Sabbath is approaching,

there isn't much time. So a man named

Joseph steps forward and asks for the

body.

And they take Jesus down from the cross

carefully,

slowly,

reverently,

and they wrap him in linen cloths, layer

after layer, using spices like myrr and

aloe. The smell is strong. It's bitter.

It's final.

Because this isn't temporary.

This is burial.

And they would carry him to a tomb not

from far from where he was crucified. A

tomb cut into rock. It was cold, dark,

and still.

And they lay him there.

A stone is rolled in front. It's heavy.

It's seal sealing the entrance. It's

sealing the move the moment. It's

sealing what they believe is in the end.

And then Sabbath.

There'd be no movement, no miracles, no

voices, just silence. And the disciples

are scattered. They're afraid. They're

confused. They're trying to process how

the one they trusted ended in a grave.

Grief settles in and questions start

forming.

Doubt begins to whisper because when God

is silent, it can feel like he's gone.

But that's where we sit. There's no

resurrection yet. There's no

understanding yet. Just a sealed tomb, a

group of people who believe the story is

over.

And what what we're about to see is how

people respond.

How they respond when they come face to

face with something they don't

understand. Because not everyone walks

into the moment the same way. And the

first person we meet is Mary. So join me

in John 20.

Now the first day of the week, Mary

Magdalene went into the tomb early while

it was still dark and saw that the stone

had been taken away from the tomb.

And before we follow Mary down the path,

you need to know her story

because you can't understand this moment

unless you understand what she's already

been through.

See, this is a woman whose life was once

completely broken. Scripture tells us

that Jesus casted seven demons out of

her.

Before him, her life was chaos. It was

torment. It was unstable and empty. And

then Jesus stepped in

and everything changed.

He didn't just help her, he restored

her. He gave her peace, identity, a

sense of hoping and belonging that she

never knew before. She gave he gave her

her life back. So understand this.

Jesus wasn't just a teacher to Mary. He

was everything. And now he's gone.

She watched Friday unfold. She saw the

cross, the suffering, the silence that

followed. And now it's Sunday morning.

And she's not coming with hope. She's

coming with grief.

And as far as she knows, the story is

over.

The Bible says it's early. While it's

still dark, it's not sunrise yet. It's

that in between moment. While the night

is still holding on, the light hasn't

fully captured.

The sky would be dim. It would be gray.

It would be heavy.

The air would be cold and still. The

ground beneath her feet is damp. And you

can almost hear the quiet crunch of the

gravel beneath her feet.

She would be carrying spices in her

hands prepared for burial. The smell

would be strong. It would be earthy. It

would be bitter. It would be the smell

of death,

the smell of finality.

And every step she takes, she keeps the

weight with her. And not just in her

hands, but in her heart.

And she's not rushing. Not yet.

See, this is the walk of someone trying

to hold it together. the walk of someone

who is saying goodbye

because because grief has a way of

slowing everything down and that's

exactly where she is.

And then she arrives and immediately

something is wrong. The stone is already

rolled away. Her heart drops. Her mind

starts racing and she doesn't think

resurrection. That's nowhere in her

mind. She assumes the only thing that

makes sense to her in that moment.

Someone has taken him.

Panic sets in. There's confusion.

There's fear because now it feels like

even her chance to say goodbye has been

taken from her.

And in that moment, everything shifts.

She turns and she runs. See, Mary is

running with grief. But she's not the

only one moving that morning. Because we

don't all come to Jesus the same way.

Some of us show up with grief. Some of

us show up with questions. Some of us

show up carrying things we don't even

have words for yet.

And what I love about this moment is

this is God doesn't wait for you to have

it all together. He meets you right in

the middle of whatever it is you're

carrying. Because while Mary is running,

there will be two other people that are

running towards that tomb this day. The

same place, the same moment, the same

evidence. But what happens next is very

different. So let's watch how this

unfolds. John chapter 20 2

John 20 · chapter mention

through 5.

And then she ran and she came to Simon

Peter and to the other disciple whom

Jesus loved and said to him, "They have

taken away the Lord out of the tomb and

we do not know where they have laid

him."

Peter therefore went out and the other

disciple and were going to the tomb. So

they both ran together and the other

disciple outran Peter and came to the

tomb first. and he stooped down looking

and looked in and saw the linen cloths

laying there. Yet he did not go in.

So now the scene shifts. There's two men

running. Their feet are pounding against

the ground. They are breathing heavy.

Their hearts are racing. And one of them

tells us something really interesting.

He says he got there first.

He outran the other disciple. But this

isn't to brag. This isn't to show

competing.

It's because this moment was too real.

It's too urgent not to remember that

detail. This is the kind of moment that

burns itself into your memory. See, he

reaches the tomb first. He stops. He

bends down. He looks in and he sees the

linen cloths lying there empty.

But he doesn't go in. He pauses.

and to understand who he is because he

wasn't always like this.

See, there was a time he was known as

the son of thunder.

He would be quick-tempered.

He'd be intense.

He'd be reactive. He would be the kind

of person who would speak first and

think later.

And what I find in the acts of the

apostles, John the beloved was described

as naturally possessing the loveliness

of a character that his later life

revealed.

He was proud, ambitious, resentful, and

easily offended. But under the

transferring power of divine love, his

character was changed.

He yielded himself to Christ, and divine

love wrought transformation of his

character.

See, John's love for his master was not

a mere human affection. It was the love

of a repentant sinner

who felt that he had been redeemed by

the precious blood of Christ.

He counted it as the highest honor to

work and suffer in the service of the

Lord.

See, his love for Jesus led him to love

all for whom Christ died.

His religion was of a practical

character. The love of Christ dwelling

in the heart will lead to a complete

transformation of the entire being.

So he pauses to make space.

See, because when Jesus has changed and

you don't just move differently, you

respond differently.

And even though he got there first, he

steps back. He waits. And he lets the

other disciple go in ahead of him.

Because sometimes the most powerful

thing can do is not step forward, but

step aside.

And maybe that's the difference. See,

some people need to run all the way in

and some people can just see enough to

know that something has changed.

But again, not everyone responds the

same because while John pauses, the

other one does not. And when he arrives,

he doesn't slow down. He doesn't

hesitate. He goes straight in. We see

this in John 20 6 and 7.

Then Simon Peter came following him and

went into the tomb and saw the linen

cloths lying there and the handkerchief

that had been around his head, not lying

with the linen cloths, but folded

together in a place by itself.

So here he comes right behind John the

beloved. The feet are pounding. He's

breathing heavy. His heart is racing.

And he isn't just running towards a

tomb.

He's running away from a memory.

Because just a few days early, he had

made a promise.

If everyone else falls away, I won't. So

we see this in Luke 22.

And now when they had kindled a fire in

the midst of the courtyard and sat

together, Peter sat among them.

And a certain servant girl seeing him at

seeing him set by the fire looked

intently at him and said, "This man was

also with him."

But he denied him, saying,"Woman, I do

not know him."

And after a little while, another one

saw him and said, "You are also of

them." But Peter said, "Man, I am not."

Then after about an hour had passed,

another confidently affirmed, saying,

"Surely this fellow is also was with

him, for he is a Galat gla galon."

But Peter said, "Man, I do not know what

you are saying." And immediately while

he was still speaking, the rooster

crowed.

And the Lord turned and looked at Peter.

Then Peter remembered the word of the

Lord and how he had said to him, "Before

the rooster crows, you will deny me

three times."

And that thought has been replaying in

his mind over and over and over again.

And if we're honest, we know what that

feels like

because most of us don't need Peter's

story to understand that moment.

We've lived one of our own. Maybe it was

not in a courtyard. Maybe it was not

around a fire. But a moment you wish you

could go back to.

Maybe it was something said. Maybe it

was in the heat of the moment. An

argument that escalated too fast.

You said something that you knew would

hurt because part of you wanted it to.

And the second it came out, you wish you

could grab it back.

Maybe it was a text that you sent too

quickly, a comment that you made in

front of others. See, cuz words cut

deeper than you meant them to. Maybe it

was something you did, a moment where

you knew better, but you did it anyways.

Maybe you crossed a line you told

yourself you never would.

You clicked on something. You stayed a

little longer than you should have. You

went further than you planned.

You broke trust. You hid it. You told

yourself it wasn't a big deal, but it's

been sitting with you ever since. A

decision you made,

not just a moment, but a direction.

So, you chose something you knew wasn't

right, but it felt easier or faster or

better in the moment. And now you're

living with a consequence that maybe it

was a relationship that you rushed into

or one that you walked away from.

Maybe it was an opportunity that you

handled the wrong way. A season where

you drifted

and now you're trying to find your way

back.

And if you could rewind it, you would.

But you can't. And it just sits there.

And every once in a while, it comes back

at night when it's quiet in the car when

there's nothing else to distract you.

Maybe in a conversation with something

triggers it. It plays again. You hear it

again. You feel it again. And no matter

how much time passes, that moment still

carries weight.

It still has a voice and it still

whispers, "You've messed up.

You should have known better.

You can't undo that."

See, and the hardest part isn't just

what happened. It's the feeling that

comes with it. The wait, the regret, the

question. Did I go too far this time?

So, when he hears the tomb is empty,

he's not thinking celebration. He's

thinking, "This might be my only

chance."

Peter is running with desperation. He's

running with regret. He's running with

the weight of everything he wishes he

could take back.

Because when you know you've messed up,

you don't walk towards Jesus. You run.

And when he reaches the tomb, he doesn't

slow down. He doesn't stop at the

entrance. He doesn't hesitate. He goes

straight in. Because guilt doesn't stand

at the door. Guilt pushes you all the

way in.

And here I want to shift focus. It's no

longer about those running in, but

what's waiting on the inside because

this isn't Peter's story anymore. This

is the scene. This is the tomb. And what

sits inside that space is not chaos.

It's not confusion. It's not the

aftermath of a rushed escape. It's

something deliberate, something quiet,

something intentional.

and what they're about to see is going

to speak louder than words ever could.

So, let's step inside slowly. Not just

because the entrance is small, but

because the spa the space doesn't feel

like anything that you would expect.

The air is cool and not just the

temperature, but it's heavy. It's still

like the kind of silence that presses in

on your ears.

There's no wind. There's no movement.

Just quiet. It's the kind of quiet that

makes you aware of your own breath, your

own breathing. The ground beneath you,

it's uneven stone. It's cold. It's damp.

And if you reach down and touched it,

your fingers would come back with dust

and moisture clinging to them. The

walls, the rough cut rock, they're not

polished. They're not smooth. They're

just carved out enough to hold a body.

And there's a smell in there. And it's

not overwhelming, but it's present. It's

the mixture of earth and stone and

burial spices, myrrh and aloe. And what

I thought was really interesting when I

was studying this was the fact that that

how they used aloe. We in today we use

it for treating sunburns or or for some

rehydration. They would use it to help

uh preserve and that's why they would

take time with that and put it on the

linen cloths. That smell would be sharp

and that bitter scent still is lingering

in the air. And as your eyes adjust to

the dim light, you begin to see it.

the place where his body has been laid.

And for a moment, you just stand there.

You're trying to make sense of it all

because something is off. See, this

isn't what you expected. There is no

disruption. There's no signs of

struggle. There's no scattered

wrappings, no chaos, just stillness

and order.

And then you notice the linen cloths

lying there, not torn, not scattered,

not thrown aside, resting,

undisturbed,

as if the body that once filled them is

simply no longer there. And then there's

one detail, and you can almost miss it

if you weren't paying attention.

It's the facecloth.

The one that had been wrapped around his

head. And it's not with the other

linens. It's it's not crumpled. It's not

chaotic. It's folded. It's set apart.

Intentional. And in that moment, the

scene starts preaching. Not with words,

but with order. Because chaos leaves a

mess. But this this is something else.

This isn't a rushed escape. This isn't

panic. This isn't someone stealing a

body in the dark.

Because if this was a theft, you would

expect disorder. If this was a robbery,

you would expect urgency. But what you

see is calm.

What you see is intention.

Linen is still there. The facecloth is

folded, which means this. His body was

not taken. No one stole him. He got up

calm, in control, not forced out, but

finished.

And that folded cloth becomes the first

silent sermon of the resurrection.

And the disciples would see it and they

would take it in and they would stand

there. They're trying to make sense of

what they're looking at.

See, because the evident the evidence is

right in front of them, but the

understanding hasn't caught up yet.

So eventually they leave still thinking,

still processing, still carrying

questions. But not everyone walks away

because while they leave trying to

figure it out, someone stays.

still hurting, still searching, still

not ready to move on. And sometimes the

miracle doesn't meet you in movement. It

meets you in staying. And Mary is still

there. John chapter 20.

John 20 · chapter mention

But Mary stood outside by the tomb

weeping. As she wept, she stooped down

and looked into the tomb. And she saw

two angels in white sitting, one at the

head and the other at the feet where the

body of Jesus had lain.

Then they said to her,"Woman, why are

you weeping?"

She said to them, "Because they have

taken away my Lord and do not know where

they have laid him."

Now when she had said this, she turned

around and saw Jesus standing there, but

and did not know that it was Jesus. And

Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you

weeping? Who are you seeking?

She supposed him to be the gardener and

said to him, "Sir,

if you have carried him away, tell me

where you have laid him and I will take

him away."

And Jesus said to her, "Mary."

She turned and said to him, "Rabani,"

which is to say, "Teacher."

So again, standing outside the tomb,

she's still crying. Everyone has left,

but she stays. Because sometimes when

your heart is heavy enough, you don't

move on quickly.

The tomb is open. The evidence is there,

but her heart hasn't caught up yet.

She's still grieving. She's still

processing. She's still trying to make

sense of it all. And then she leans in

and one more time she bends down and she

looks inside the tomb. And now she sees

something different.

Two angels sitting where Jesus had been.

And even then, she still is locked into

the same thought.

they've taken him.

Because when your expectations are set

on loss, even heaven can look confusing.

And then she turns and Jesus is standing

right there, but she doesn't recognize

him.

And this is where it gets interesting

because this moment isn't as strange as

it sounds. See, a few weeks ago, I had

the opportunity of being ordained as an

elder here at this church. It was one of

those sacred moments. It was there was

people standing around, names were being

called, and our senior pastor was

looking for me. He was scanning the

room. He was looking left, he was

looking right. He was trying to figure

out where I am. And that whole time I

was standing right next to him,

like right here. Okay. All right. So,

and I'm watching him look for me. And

while I'm while and while he's looking

for me, I'm thinking, I'm here. I

promise I'm right here. And then it hit

me. He thought that I was someone else.

He thought that I was James Waggley.

Now, here's what's fascinating. See,

researchers have found that we're not as

good at recognizing people as we think

we are because we don't just recognize

faces. We recognize context.

See, where we expect someone to be, what

we expect them to look like, what

situation we think they're in. And when

that context changes,

you can look straight at someone you

know and still not recognize them.

You guys can take it down. See, and

suddenly Mary's moment makes sense to me

because she's not looking for a living

savior. She was looking for a dead one.

She says, "Sir, if you have carried him

away, tell me where you've laid him."

And then it happens. It's not a sermon.

It's not an explanation. It's not a

correction. It's just one word, Mary.

and everything changes because the tomb

showed her he was alive, but his voice

showed her he still knew her.

And in an instant, grief turns into

recognition, confusion turns into

clarity, and loss turns into

relationship.

She says, "Rabbi or teacher."

And in that moment, it becomes personal.

Not just that Jesus is alive, but that

he sees her.

He knows her and he calls her by name.

And that moment is only possible because

of the resurrection. Because if Jesus is

still in the grave, Mary is still

grieving. Is if Jesus is still in the

grave, Peter

is still defined by his failure.

If Jesus is still in the grave, John is

still standing there with questions.

But the resurrection changes everything

because the resurrection is not just an

event. It's a declaration.

That sin doesn't win.

That death doesn't have the final word.

That failure is not your ending. And

don't miss this.

See, the same voice that called her name

is the same voice that went to the

cross.

The same hands that were pierced are the

same hands that folded that cloth. Which

means this,

the resurrection isn't just proof that

Jesus is alive. It's proof that

salvation is finished, that grace is

available, and that what he started on

the cross, he completed when he walked

out of that tomb.

And if he did that for her, he's still

doing that for us today.

See, because this isn't just Mary's

story. This is this is how Jesus works.

He meets you in your grief. He meets you

in your confusion.

He meets you in your questions.

He doesn't always start with

explanations. He starts with your name.

And when you step back and you look at

it, every one of them that came to the

tomb came carrying something different.

Mary came carrying grief. John the

beloved came carrying love. And Peter

came carrying guilt.

And Jesus met every single one of them

right where they were. And the question

is, will you recognize his voice when he

calls you?

Because this isn't just their story.

This is ours.

Some of you came carrying grief.

Something that didn't turn out the way

you thought it would. Something ended.

Something hurts.

And now you're just trying to take the

next step. Some of you came in carrying

love for God,

but if you're honest, you're still

trying to figure it out.

See, cuz things don't make sense. And

sometimes you're trying to process what

you're seeing in your life. And some of

you, some of you came carrying guilt.

Maybe it was something you said,

something you did, something you wish

you could go back and undo.

And deep down, you're wondering, did I

mess this up?

And just like that morning, Jesus is

ready to meet you.

And the reason he can meet you there is

because of the resurrection. Because the

resurrection isn't just proof that Jesus

is alive. It's proof that grace is still

available.

It's proof that your worst moment

doesn't have the final say.

It's proof that what you thought was

over, God is still working in. Because

think about it, Mary came with grief and

the resurrection met her with comfort.

John came with questions and the

resurrection came with answers.

And Peter came with failure

and the resurrection met him with grace.

And that same resurrection is still

meeting people today. It's still

restoring. It's still calling. It's

still saving. And the way he meets you

is the same way he met her. Not always

with explanations,

but with your name. Because he still

sees you. He still knows you. He still

calls your name. So here's the question.

Will you recognize his voice?

Will you trust him even when you don't

understand what you're seeing?

We believe that he's still working even

when it feels like everything else has

fallen apart

because the same Jesus who stepped out

of that tomb with intention and stood

behind Mary and called her by name is

still moving in your life today.

So if you're here and you're in a season

where things don't make sense, where

you're carrying grief or questions or

guilt and you need to trust God again, I

want to invite you to respond. So, if

you're here today and you're carrying

something, something you've lost and it

still feels heavy. Bring it to Jesus.

You don't have to carry it alone

anymore.

Maybe you're unsure. Maybe you're

doubting. Maybe you're trying to make

sense of it all. Bring your questions to

Jesus.

Don't run. Lean in.

Maybe you feel unworthy, like this isn't

for you.

Lay it down. Jesus already paid for it.

You don't have to carry it anymore.

And maybe you're struggling with

something I have not called out and it's

something that only you and God knows.

Whatever it is that you're holding,

don't just sit in it. Bring it to him.

Hear this clearly. You are not too far

gone.

Jesus sees it all. Every struggle, every

tear, every moment you thought no one

noticed. Because the same Jesus who

walked out of the grave didn't just do

something back then. He's still doing

something now. What he finished on the

cross, he's still applying to our lives

today. What he proved in that empty

tomb, he's still proving in our hearts

right now.

Because when he walked out of that

grave, he walked out with your salvation

in his hands.

It's paid for. It's finished. It's

available.

And he didn't stop there. I'm going to

ask our worship team to come up. He's

still restoring. He's still redeeming.

He's still calling. He's still writing

stories, including yours.

So, the question isn't what he did. The

question is, will you trust him with

what he's doing?

Because your past doesn't disqualify

you. Your presence doesn't scare him.

And your future is not out of his reach.

It's still being written with intention,

with purpose, and with grace. Because if

the cloth was folded, then the story

isn't finished. If the story isn't

finished, then neither are you.

Dear heavenly father, thank you. Thank

you for reminding us that the story did

not end in your grave. Thank you that

the tomb is empty and you are alive.

Lord, you see us. You see us with our

grief. You see us with our questions.

You see us with our guilt.

And yet you walk with us still.

We ask that you call us. who remind us

that we are not too far gone and that

grace is still available and that our

story isn't finished. In your name,

amen.

Thanks so much for joining us here at

the McDonald Road 7th Adventist Church

for worship. Each month we reach between

25 and 30,000 people with gospel content

online. We're looking to expand our

audiovisisual department this year and

looking to raise $30,000 in this

project. We would love for you to

partner with us on this and consider

making a donation to our audiovisisual

department as we look at expansion and

reaching more people with the gospel

across the internet this next year. You

can go to mrcsda.org

to make a donation directly to our

audiovisisual department. Thank you so

much for considering making this

donation and the privilege is ours to

partner with you in making this a bigger

and more effective ministry here at the

McDonald Road 7th Adventist Church. God

bless each one of you and thanks again

for joining us here at the McDonald Road

7th Adventist Church.