Here we are again, at a tomb. And again, this isn’t just any tomb. For the women and the disciples, this tomb is personal—even more personal than Lazarus’ tomb would have been. This is the tomb of their companion, their teacher, their friend, and their hoped-for Savior.

There’s more than physical death at this tomb. There’s also the death of their hopes and dreams, of their expectations for the One who promised that although he would be killed, he would also rise again (Mark 8:31).

For Peter, this tomb holds even more sorrow and anguish. For Peter, this tomb holds his well-intentioned but often-misplaced brashness. It holds his promise to remain firm even if all the other disciples fell away and his subsequent denial of Jesus—three times!—only a few hours later. It holds the tears he wept bitterly when Jesus looked at him, and it holds his guilt and shame for not coming to the cross to see his friend and Lord just one more time.

Or, rather, that’s what this tomb held. When the women arrived at the tomb, they found it empty of a dead body, and the words of the angel assured them that this emptiness had also swallowed up all the other death and sorrow and anguish in this tomb. “He has risen! He is not here!” Their companion, teacher, and friend was truly the promised Messiah. Their hopes and dreams were alive again!

But what about Peter? Was the tomb empty, even for him? After all, this tomb held more for Peter. Could Jesus’ resurrection from the dead truly erase all that Peter had said and done? Could things ever be the same between him and Jesus? Could Peter still follow his friend and Lord in the same way as before?

Yes, the tomb was empty—even for Peter.

How do we know? We can look to Jesus’ reinstatement of Peter (John 21:15-19), to Peter’s later ministry, to his faithfulness even to the point of death.

But for Peter, all that was still in the future. Peter needed something now to assure him the tomb was empty, even for him. And Jesus loved him enough to give him this assurance on Easter morning through two beautiful words from an angel: “and Peter.”

These two words become even more meaningful when you know the history of the gospel of Mark. It’s likely that Mark wrote this gospel based on Peter’s preaching, and the words “and Peter” appear only in Mark’s resurrection account. Imagine how much these words must have meant to Peter if he included them in his preaching often enough for Mark to record. Imagine how tightly Peter must have clung to these words in times of hardship and suffering.

“And Peter.” “And Kristi.” “And (your name).” These two beautiful words assure us that the tomb is empty for us, too. No matter the sorrow and anguish you carry, no matter the sins that trouble you—these are no match for the empty tomb.

This Easter season, come back to the empty tomb again and again, and be assured it is empty for you.