Stardate 04.05.2026
Imagine walking up to the tomb and finding it empty.
The week leading up to this moment felt like a week from hell. Confusion. Fear. Grief. You remember wanting to fight back when the mob came for Jesus. One of your friends did draw his sword and struck a man, cutting off his ear. And you watched, stunned, as Jesus calmly picked up the ear and restored it as if violence had no authority in His presence.
That memory is still fresh when you arrive at the tomb.
And now… it’s empty.
Then His words come rushing back.
“Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.”
The light dawns slowly. The kind of realization that starts in the mind but lands in the heart like thunder.
The temple has been rebuilt.
Jesus is alive.
Death has been conquered.
What felt like the darkest week in human history was actually the setup for the greatest victory the world would ever know.
“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” — Psalm 118:24
This morning, we are headed to our house of worship to celebrate Easter Sunday with hearts that are full. Full of gratitude. Full of relief. Full of joy that doesn’t come from circumstances but from truth.
I’m especially thankful today that my body has recovered from whatever crept into my life on Friday and forced me to leave my day job early. For a moment, it felt like my own little retreat into weakness. A forced pause. A reminder that I am not in control of as much as I think I am.
But today, strength is returning.
The sun is shining. The air feels lighter. And the timing is not lost on me.
Just as the tomb did not stay occupied, neither did my bed.
Just as despair did not have the final word, neither did fatigue.
Just as death did not win, neither did whatever tried to slow me down this weekend.
Easter has a way of putting everything into perspective.
The setbacks. The sickness. The exhaustion. The grief. The fear.
They are real.
But they are not final.
We worship a Savior who specializes in turning what looks finished into a fresh beginning.
So today, we rejoice.
Not because life is perfect.
But because hope is alive.
Captain’s Addendum
Spock tilted his head slightly. “Captain, the data suggests that hope often appears most illogical at the very moment it is most necessary.”
Bones folded his arms. “I’ve seen enough to know, Spock, sometimes the only cure for a weary body is a reminded soul.”
And I smiled, realizing that Easter doesn’t just change history.
It changes how we see today.
Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong
Mission Log: Strength returns. Hope remains. Gratitude rises.
Happy Easter.
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