Stop Promoting Gendered Hierarchy!

This article is dedicated to two good men in my life, my father, Ken, and my husband, Luke. My father has always supported me, encouraged me, believed in me, loved me, and has never made me feel lesser. I wish there were more fathers like him. My husband’s love and support mean the world to me. He has always treated me as an equal, affirmed my value in our marriage, and rejoiced in my worth as a fellow-worker in the ministry of Christ. I am thankful for them both. “A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children.” (Proverbs 13:22)

One of the most damaging teachings that has defined the church throughout history – and still shapes it today – is the belief that God established a hierarchy of men over women at creation. This hierarchy, it’s claimed, was either part of God’s original plan or a prescriptive punishment on women because of sin.

If this structure was indeed part of God’s design, then it supposedly flows from creation into the church – the second, or “new,” creation. Despite appearing outdated in our 21st-century, Western context (though it’s far from gone), this so-called “divine order” is still taught and implemented in many churches, shaping how we view the relationship between men and women.

Off To A Bad Start

Many Christians claim to believe men and women are equal in dignity and worth. Yet they often point to one detail in Genesis: that Adam was created first.

Eve, they argue, was created second – and as a helper. This order, and her role, are used as proof of a divinely established hierarchy. The bottom line: men were made first to image God, and women were made second to help them.

It’s a little painful to hear Eve described, in vaguely apologetic tones, as an afterthought – created to gather berries, collect firewood, and generally help Adam with other mundane pre-history tasks that would prove to be too much for Adam on his own. (God had hoped one of the animals might do the trick – but alas, no joy.)

More painful still is seeing this belief play out in the church, where women are still prevented – explicitly or implicitly – from contributing meaningfully, even when clearly gifted. Some hesitate to limit women entirely (the “soft complementarian” view, which I’ll return to shortly), allowing them to use their gifts only under male oversight. Others, the so-called “hard complementarians,” are more direct – permitting little to no participation from women at all.

Firstly, What Is Meant By ‘Hierarchy’?

hierarchy

/ˈhʌɪərɑːki/
noun

1. a system where people or things are ranked by importance

2. those in the upper levels of a system who control it

3. a structure where authority is distributed by level

Inherent in hierarchy are ideas of power, importance, and authority. These concepts aren’t necessarily wrong. In organisations, it can be wise to entrust leadership to those with greater experience or training. Some items are more valuable due to rarity or function – gold, for example.

“All that sorting and ranking can be helpful if you’re a business administrator, but if you find yourself arranging all the produce in your fridge according to a hierarchy of colour, size, and expiration date, you might want to consider visiting a therapist.” – Vocabulary.com

But not all hierarchies are just. Patriarchy and colonialism, for instance, are historical hierarchies whose lingering effects show how damaging disproportionate power structures can be. The question is whether such a hierarchy exists by design between men and women – and whether Scripture actually teaches this.

Does God truly assign more power or value to men simply for being men? Was this the original plan?

Hierarchy + Complementarian || Egalitarian

Within Christianity, two main frameworks attempt to describe the relationship between men and women: complementarianism and egalitarianism.

  • Complementarianism teaches that men and women have different but complementary roles, especially in marriage and church leadership.

  • Egalitarianism teaches that men and women are equally authorised to lead, teach, and serve – both in the home and the church.

Both positions acknowledge key truths. Men and women are different – biologically and psychologically. Some of those differences are shaped by environment; others are hard-wired by design. Scripture affirms the value of both sexes and depicts God’s nature through the fusion of masculine and feminine traits (Titus 2:1–5; 1 Peter 3:7; 1 Timothy 3–4).

At the same time, men and women are alike – equal in worth, dignity, and relationship to God. We are the same and we are different. Both truths matter deeply in marriage, in the church, and in how we relate to one another.

Complementarian Is Not Complimentary

The trouble is, complementarianism is not truly complementary in practice. In reality, it functions as a male-dominated hierarchy, often softly packaged but unmistakable in outcome.

I say true complementarianism because many Christian couples who identify with the term actually function as equals in practice. Many “complementarian” churches operate largely egalitarian day to day – limiting only senior leadership roles to men.

However, prominent complementarian voices go much further. For some, male authority and female submission aren’t limited to marriage or the church – they extend into every area of life. These teachers claim God intended a male-dominated structure from the beginning and that it applies universally.

As [John] Piper said in 2012, “if people accept egalitarianism, sooner or later, they’re going to get the Gospel wrong.” (The Conversation)

Why Is Any Of This Important?

Well, I agree with John Piper in one respect:

Whichever framework we believe is established in Genesis will shape how we read the rest of Scripture – and, by extension, the kind of gospel we teach.

I believe this issue directly influences the way we understand the gospel narrative and how it plays out in the life of the church, our identity in Christ, relationships between men and women, marriage, and how all these dynamics function in healthy, whole, and holy ways.

Genesis provides the framework. It’s deeply connected to our theology and our view of God’s intention for humanity. And crucially, before we even reach the New Testament, our interpretation of Genesis often predetermines how we read later passages – especially those that seem to support gender hierarchy.

In that sense, this is foundational. If we get the beginning wrong, we’ll likely misread what comes next.

Setting Some Framework: Why Genesis 1-3 Is Foundational Theology

To argue that hierarchy is built into God’s design for humanity – and thus into the church – many jump quickly from Genesis to Paul, usually 1 Corinthians 11:3: “The head of the woman is the man.”

That verse, along with 1 Timothy 2:11–15 and Ephesians 5:22–24, is often used as proof that a gendered hierarchy is God-ordained. But the reasoning often skips context, bypasses qualifiers, and then reads these interpretations back into Genesis, retrofitting hierarchy into the creation narrative.

But 1 Corinthians, for example, is a letter addressing issues of unity, conduct, worship, and resurrection. And 1 Timothy is a letter about healthy church leadership, rooted in mutual submission (see Ephesians 5:21). Chapter 11 of 1 Corinthians, in particular, is one of the most debated and difficult passages in the New Testament – and requires far more care than a proof-text allows.

Yes, the New Testament has things to say about creation, gender, and marriage. But we must read the New Testament through the lens of Genesis, not the other way around.

Genesis sets the scene. And as the text makes clear, everything that goes wrong – sin, death, brokenness – happens after the fall. The beginning shows us how things were always meant to be.

“The whole purpose of Genesis 1 is to set the ideal human community – a place in which the image of God, or the imitation of God, is actually going to be realised. That, of course, gets distorted in Genesis 3 when humans disobey God. But the first chapter is outlining the ideal. The book of Genesis is therefore a means to a theological end.” – Professor C. John Collins (emphasis mine)

So what existed before the fall was God’s original design – normative, life-giving, and intended for human flourishing. That design, marred by sin, is restored in Christ and reinstituted through the work of the Spirit in the new creation (the church).

Genesis 1–3 is foundational theology. It tells us who God is, who we are, and what redemption is restoring.

What Genesis Says

1. No Hierarchy In Our Humanity:

The crowning glory of God’s creation was humanity, and Eve was the final masterstroke. Created from Adam’s side, her status was equal to his – made in the image of God, with the same capacity to reflect His glory (Genesis 1:27).

“Then God said, ‘Let us make mankind (adam in Hebrew) in our image, in our likeness…’ So God created mankind in His own image, in the image of God He created them; male and female He created them.” (Genesis 1:26–27)

The Hebrew words used to describe Eve’s creation are ezer kenegdo – often translated as “helper suitable for him.” But “helper” in English doesn’t capture the weight of the word. In the rest of the Bible, ezer usually refers to God as a protector or rescuer. The word kenegdo conveys the idea of someone equal and corresponding – a partner.

Eve was not beneath Adam, nor above him, but stood beside him as his equal – a woman of valour, worthy of him in every way (Proverbs 31:10).

Yes, Adam was created first, but this order isn’t mentioned elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible, and Jesus doesn’t refer to it. It comes up in two of Paul’s letters, and even there, context matters.

In this article, author Marg Mowczko takes a brief look at these two passages and at the significance that Paul places on man being created first and woman second, which she contends does not support a gendered hierarchy.)

2. No Hierarchy In Our Responsibility:

Genesis 1:28 tells us that God blesses both the man and the woman and gives them the same commission – be fruitful, multiply, and rule over the earth. Neither could do this alone. Together, they’re entrusted with caring for creation and stewarding God’s world.

This is the first place we see God’s authority exercised through His image-bearers – and it’s shared authority. The same theme carries into the new creation, where both men and women are commissioned by Jesus to go and make disciples (Matthew 28:19, 2 Corinthians 3:6, 5:19–20).

Men and women are created equal in purpose, capacity, and calling. They were both given the same responsibility from the beginning.

3. No Hierarchy In Our Conjugality:

Adam and Eve weren’t just the first humans – they were also the first married couple. Their equality wasn’t just about identity, but also about how they related to each other in marriage.

Genesis 2:23–24 gives us a reflection on that relationship:

“The man said, ‘This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh…’ That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.”

Marriage here is a mutual partnership. Two individuals, equal in worth and capability, choosing to leave their family of origin and form a new family together – united, cooperative, and committed.

Eve was made from Adam’s side, not the ground. She shares something unique with him – a bond the animals didn’t have. The phrases “bone of my bone” and “flesh of my flesh” show their connection and equality.

Why did God create Eve this way? Why make Adam first? Why does Adam name her? These are all fair questions – and we should explore them with care. But always through the lens of what Genesis is doing: illustrating God’s intention to dwell with His people and restore creation through partnership.

Jesus + The Church

There are beautiful theological overtones in the creation story that point to Jesus and the church. Paul writes in Ephesians that marriage wasn’t the model for the church – it was the other way around. The church came first, marriage second.

That might sound odd, since the church didn’t exist in Genesis. But when we recognise that Genesis lays the blueprint for all God intended – a partnership between God and His people to reflect His glory – it begins to make sense. The plan was never for hierarchy, but for union and restoration. The church is part of that story.

Adam’s deep sleep and Eve’s creation from his side foreshadow something greater. Jesus falls into the sleep of death, and from His sacrifice the church is born. Just as Eve was made from Adam’s body, the church is formed from Christ – His body, His life, His Spirit. She is of His essence.

The church exists only because of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Her identity is shaped by her source. Through His sacrifice, she becomes a living creation. Paul calls the church Christ’s bride – the ekklesia, called out from the nations, brought into being through His suffering and love.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation… He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything He might have the supremacy.” – Colossians 1:15–18

God did it this way – creating Adam and Eve in that particular order and manner – to teach us something greater. The Genesis narrative speaks of marriage, yes, but even more, it points ahead to Christ and the church. That’s the theological foundation being laid.

Marriage in Genesis 2 is marked by mutuality – sacrifice, defence, support, commitment, faithfulness. That’s the pattern we see again in Christ’s relationship with the church. And that’s the model God intended all along.

Hierarchy: Things Go South

The first few chapters of Genesis paint a picture of how things were meant to be – ideal human community, kingdom living, perfect partnership. But then it all goes wrong.

Adam and Eve disobey. Sin enters. The world is fractured. God outlines the consequences for each of them.

To Adam, God says: “Because of what you have done, cursed is the ground because of you. Through painful toil you will eat from it all your days… By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground. For dust you are, and to dust you will return.” – Genesis 3:17–19

To Eve, God says: “I will make your pains in childbearing very severe… Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.” – Genesis 3:16

These consequences aren’t prescriptive – they’re descriptive. God is not endorsing hierarchy or suffering. He is naming what sin has broken. The ground is cursed, not Adam. Pain and power struggle are now part of human life, but they are not what God originally intended.

So is this a punishment, or a prophecy? Has God changed His mind about Eve’s value? Or is He simply stating the fallout of their disobedience?

When we read Scripture as a whole, we see the story arc pointing not to hierarchy, but to restoration – a return to the “very good” creation we saw in Eden. Revelation speaks of a renewed heaven and earth. And the early church gives us glimpses of that restoration in action.

Through the lens of Genesis, we can see how the early believers wrestled with and overturned cultural norms – racial divides, class systems, gender roles. The new creation brought change. Women ministered, prophesied, planted churches, and led alongside men.

If gendered hierarchy exists, it is not God’s ideal. It is a result of the fall – not a design for human flourishing, and certainly not a model for the church.

Where Have All The Good Men Gone?

Some say this issue isn’t central to the gospel. I both agree and disagree.

I agree in the sense that it’s not a salvation issue. I fully affirm that people on either side of this discussion – complementarian or egalitarian – can be sincere, faithful followers of Jesus.

But I also believe it’s more than just a side topic. Where you land on this shapes the kind of gospel you preach, the kind of church you build, how you see your identity in Christ, and how you treat others – especially in marriage and leadership.

What we teach our sons and daughters matters. The framework we pass down has real consequences.

There are many good men who identify as complementarian. They sincerely believe this is what Scripture teaches and try to live it out with gentleness and humility. But in practice, especially in healthy marriages and churches, these men often don’t live as strict complementarians. Their relationships function with mutual respect and shared responsibility – they are far more egalitarian in practice.

Then there are other men – still under the complementarian label – who are not good. They are abusive, controlling, entitled, and demeaning. Some behave differently in public than at home. Others use Scripture as a weapon – quoting verses on submission, headship, and authority to justify mistreatment.

As Rachel Held Evans once said, “Complementarianism doesn’t work – in marriages or church leadership – because it’s not actually complementarianism. It’s patriarchy. And patriarchy doesn’t work because God created men and women to reflect His character as equal partners with equal value.”

One of the greatest challenges Christian women face today is recognising abuse that hides behind spiritual language – submission, obedience, roles, headship. And even when they do recognise it, they often feel powerless to name it, prevent it, or escape it.

Studies show that abuse within the church is far more common than we’d like to admit. A report from the Anglican Church revealed that many clergy remain in denial, despite years of evidence.

New Testament scholar Scot McKnight writes:

Complementarians teach biblical hierarchicalism and patriarchy, and say men and women are equal – not in a substantive way, but in a spiritual sense. Their ‘role’ language quickly becomes power language. This hierarchy leads to entitlement and the submission of women. All abusive men are entitled. They lash out, seek control, and demand submission. All abusive men believe women are inferior.”- Complementarianism and the Abusive Male

Abuse is never justified by Scripture. No matter how carefully someone tries to twist the text, the message of Jesus doesn’t support it. As McKnight says: “Males feeling entitled is a cultural product – and complementarianism creates a culture that feeds it. To change the outcome, we have to change the culture. And we have to change the men.”

In Conclusion

The gospel is the story that runs through the whole Bible. It’s not just a message about personal salvation from sin, but about what God has always intended for creation. It begins in Genesis and ends in Revelation – telling the story of God’s glory, humanity’s calling to reflect it, the fall, redemption through Jesus, and the restoration of all things.

From the beginning, God’s design for humanity was never built on gendered hierarchy. It was built on mutuality – cooperation, commitment, trust, and partnership. Men and women, different but equal, both reflecting God’s image.

That intention was damaged by sin, but it’s restored in Christ. The new creation – the church – is called to model that restoration. We’re meant to reflect God’s original design, not reinforce the brokenness of the fall.

Genesis 1 and 2 should shape how we read the rest of Scripture. If we get the beginning right, we’ll tell a gospel story that’s full of life, hope, and freedom.

I don’t believe gendered hierarchy fits the biblical gospel. I don’t believe it reflects God’s intention, or what Scripture teaches about men and women – not in creation, not in the church, and not in Christ.

And more than that, I believe the power imbalance created by complementarian structures often leads to real harm. Cultures that promote male authority over female participation – even subtly – create space where abuse can grow unchecked. That harms individuals, distorts the church, and obscures the beauty of the gospel.

Stop promoting gendered hierarchy. Stop calling it God’s design. 

It’s time for the church to rediscover what it truly means to live as the body of Christ – each part honoured, each voice heard. The world is watching. Let’s not reflect hierarchy. Let’s reflect Him.


There is so much more to read, watch, or listen to on this topic. If you want to explore further, I recommend: Rediscovering Scripture’s Vision for Women – Lucy Peppiatt, Gender Roles and the People of God – Alice Matthews, The Blue Parakeet – Scot McKnight, Man and Woman: One in Christ – Philip B. Payne, Pagan Christianity and Reimagining Church – Frank Viola, and The Kingdom Roots podcast by Scot McKnight



An Easter Tale

(Not a reader? Take a listen instead ⇓)

Let me tell you a tale.

It starts in a garden, long, long ago.

And what a garden it was – literally, a paradise on earth. A place of grandeur and beauty, filled with trees of every description and with leaves in every shade of green, soaring upwards toward a sky so blue it hurts the eyes.

The sound of a great river can be heard flowing through this garden paradise, a source of life and refreshing for all the living things that call it home. In the still shade of the trees, quiet pools of deep emerald green can be found, surrounded by rocks and ferns. If you listen carefully, you can hear the sound of animals scuttering through the brush, and, overheard, birds sing joyfully in the trees, lifting a chorus of praise to the One who created them.

A perfect garden; beautiful, unspoiled, glorious.

If the tale had ended here, it would be a short one, perhaps, but satisfying nonetheless.

But this is not the end of the story.

Come a little closer, deeper into the heart of the garden and you will see two trees, shimmering softly in the golden sunlight. Laden with ripe, juicy fruit, they’re the most beautiful trees you’ve ever seen.  You  watch as a woman, standing underneath the long, slender boughs, reaches out her hand and plucks a piece of fruit from one. She passes it to the man standing beside her. Reaching out again, she takes another and, as they both bite into the fruit, you see movement in the branches as the sinuous form of a serpent winds itself up and away into the leaves of the tree.

Juice trickles down their chins and drips onto their bare feet. You long to join them, sharing in the delicious fruit and in a moment that seems bathed in the golden light of pleasure and contentment.

Yet, you suddenly sense a change in the air. You can see that the two humans can feel it too. Their expressions change and the sudden heaviness you feel is reflected in the set of their shoulders. Emotions chase across their faces. Discovery, understanding, disappointment, shame….

You hear a voice. A question. Even watching from a distance, you feel the need to hide, to shrink, and turn your face away in discomfort.

What have you done?

You listen closely as the conversation unfolds.

A punishment; life ending in death.

A promise; death ending in life.

The conversation concludes with words spoken with great love but also great sadness “By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.

And now, you must leave.

A sharp metallic scent fills the air, new and unexpected in this place. You turn your gaze and see that a lamb has been slaughtered, its blood soaking into the ground. A mournful cry passes through your body, rising up towards heaven, and, with a deep heaviness, you realise that all of creation is echoing your cry, a keening filled with pain and loss.

Something terrible has happened in this garden. A darkness is falling in Eden. A great evil has entered paradise and Death close on its heels.

The two humans move eastward, clothed in the skin of the lamb, and then pass beyond the borders of the garden, out into wildlands they’ve never seen before. A flaming sword is placed at the entrance to the garden, turning every which way so that it appears to form a fiery cross. Shimmering creatures stand on either side of the sword, guarding the way back to what lies at the heart of the garden; the abundant and eternal life of God.

This is a tragedy too great to bear, a terrible price to pay, and yet you cannot look away. What did the voice mean, life springing from death? Is all lost? Surely there is still hope?

Centuries pass. The darkness only grows deeper and heavier.

The whole world lies under the power of the evil one and the heart of humanity has become hardened and sick. A long silence, nearly 400 years, has passed since anyone has heard even the voice of God. Hope seems lost.

But this is not the end of the story.

Under a star-sprinkled sky in a small middle-eastern town, shepherds are out in the fields watching over their flocks. It’s census time and the town is filled to overflowing with travellers from all over the nation. The fields are the quietest place to be right now, and the shepherds are welcoming the reprieve from the thronging crowds.

Suddenly a great light appears all around them, illuminating the fields for miles in every direction. A voice speaks aloud. “Good news of great joy for all people! Your saviour is born!

Salvation! Hope! The shepherds know what these words mean. The words of the promise have been passed down, in hallowed whispers, through every generation since the beginning of time itself. One day, the saviour will come. One day, the way back to the garden will be opened again. One day we will go home.

The life and light of humanity was appearing, at long last. Light was piercing the thick gloom, shining in the darkness and now they knew the truth and a promise realised, that the darkness will not overcome.

But when? And how?

The ruler of this world has a foothold in every corner and many are enslaved to his bidding. The child must be kept safe, hidden in plain sight in a small, non-descript town, thought to be of little worth, until the time is right.  Not even his own family would know the truth of who he is.  Not yet.

Seasons come and go. The moon waxes and wanes. Time passes.

The child is now a man, fully grown, and full of grace and truth. One day soon he will wage war against the kingdoms of this world; one by one they will fall at his feet and he will stand victorious, the triumphant conqueror and saviour of humanity.

And, even now, you think that the moment must surely have arrived. You find yourself standing in another garden, known as “the oil press”, due, most likely, to the presence of the young olive trees growing in abundance all around. The ground is rocky under your feet and the moon bright overhead.

A small band of men lie asleep and, as you come closer, you see that the man is a little way off from the sleeping men, kneeling down with his hands clasped in prayer.

You can sense the great weight and desperate solitude that lies upon him; sorrow is clearly etched across his features and, as you watch, great drops of sweat fall from his brow, soaking into the ground like blood.

The sound of footfalls and the murmur of voices can suddenly be heard floating on the still night air. A crowd of men draws close, some who look to be perhaps priests of the city, others of more humble occupation, all carrying swords and clubs. The man and his friends, now roused from sleep, stand waiting.

The leader of the crowd steps forward and kisses the man’s cheek in greeting and, all at once, the rest of the crowd moves forward, as one, to seize the man, a signal having clearly been given.

Chaos erupts, a sword swings wildly and a man screams, clutching at the bleeding side of his head where moments before his ear had been. Then, suddenly, his ear miraculously reappears, reattached and healed, and the crowd falls away astonished and afraid. You can hear the man sternly reprimanding the one in whose hand the sword is found.

Put your sword away, for all who take the sword will die by the sword.

You are confused and suddenly afraid. This is not how you expected this to go. You want to run away and, turning your gaze, you see that the small band of followers that had come with the man have done just that.

He is left alone, surrounded by a crowd who are at once afraid of him but also enraged by him. Their hate for him is palpable, and envy and violence are thick in the air.

They step forward again in sudden decision; the man is seized, unresisting, his hands are bound, and, as he is led away to be tried, you want to weep. All those years of obscurity and safety, all the hope of the world resting in this man, and even he was no match for the dark evil in the world.

You hope for a miracle but you have seen what men can do.

The sun finally rises, illuminating a terrible sight. The man is struggling up a hill, the weight of a timber crossbeam pressing down on his bruised shoulders and back. He has been viciously beaten and his back is covered in deep welts, A rough circle of small, gnarly branches, fashioned to resemble a crown, has been jammed upon his head. The sharp barbs of the thorns cut deeply into his flesh, blood dripping down his neck and onto the wood of the crossbeam across his shoulders.

At the summit, the man is unceremoniously stripped naked, his arms are forced apart, bound to either side of the timber crossbeam, and heavy, iron nails are hammered through his wrists and into the timber.

The crossbeam is raised high above the gathering crowd, the man sucking in shuddering breaths with each jostle, and attached to a large, upright post already fixed in place. The post, stained with darkened streaks, tells the terrible history of this place, and, as the man’s ankles are hammered to the upright, fresh blood flows, joining the old.

You want to turn away, you cannot bear to look any longer on the horror and humiliation, but you cannot. It seems as if the whole world’s gaze must surely be turned towards this sight, forced to give witness to the deprivation and evil endured by this man.

You can taste misery and guilt, like sawdust in your mouth and feel a terrible clawing in the pit of your stomach.

At about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, the man dies. The crowd, who came at first for sport, are now deeply shaken by what they have seen, and return to their homes full of sorrow and contrition. A Roman centurion standing nearby raises his voice, surely in protest of what has taken place. “This”, he exclaims, “was an innocent man.” You, too, lift your voice in agreement but it is lost on the wind.

Yes. A perfect human, good and true, and all the hope of the world rested in him. An innocent man but also now a dead man.

There is nothing more that can be done.

The man’s body is taken down from the cross, wrapped in a linen shroud and placed in a newly cut tomb; he is the first to rest in this place. A stone is rolled across the entrance and the long-hoped-for saviour of the world is left alone, in the still darkness of the grave.

But this is not the end of the story.

A soft breeze is blowing as the first streaks of dawn creep over the distant horizon. A bird sings sweetly from a branch overhead and the grass is cool under your feet as you wander through this peaceful place.

You are in yet another garden and, as you draw closer, you realise you are near to the place where the man’s body had been laid. You can hear voices, the low, intimate conversation of a man and a woman, and, as the path rounds a corner,  you see them standing together beneath the trees, close but not touching. The woman has been crying, you can see her cheeks are wet with tears, but, strangely, her eyes are shining not with sorrow but instead with joy.

She turns suddenly and brushes past you, breaking into a run and is quickly lost to sight. Only the man remains.

And now you can his face clearly and you draw in a sharp breath, hope suddenly fluttering inside your chest; it cannot be!

For you saw this man betrayed, beaten, brutally executed, buried….not three days past. You saw the light of the world, condemned and put to death and yet here he stands before you, alive.

Radiant. Restored. Resurrected.

I am the Alpha and the Omega” he says, his voice warm with feeling, “the beginning and the end. The one who is and who was and who is to come. Fear not.

I am the first and the last. I died and, behold, I am alive forever.

He smiles and now a sob catches in your throat.

I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though they die, yet will they live. I have swallowed up death in glorious victory and all those in me will be made alive too, an abundant and eternal life.

Do you believe?

You nod, scarcely daring to trust what your heart knows to be true. The curse has been overcome, the promise has been fulfilled. “Life to death, death to life, like seeds, like soil, like stars.”*

In this world, you will have trouble” the man continues “but take heart! I have overcome the world. 

It was prophesied that I, the Christ, should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in my name to all nations, beginning in this place. 

And now, dear heart, go, and tell the world the good news.

I am risen!


Genesis 3:19, 1 John 5:19, Malachi 1:1, Luke 2:10, John 1:14, Luke 22:44, Mark 15:25, John 20: 18, Revelation 1:17, Revelation 22:12, John 11:25, 1 Corinthians 15:22, John 16:33, Luke 24: 44-46, Matthew 28:19-20
*quote by author Rachel Held Evans (1981-2019)
This article was first published 14 April 2022