You know the kind of news that changes everything?
An engagement, for instance. Your mind races backwards and forwards, and you see the past and the future in a whole new light. Wow, you think, He already loved her then? And That will mean, what, a fall wedding? I’d better start looking at plane tickets. Joy starts exploding inside you, and you can’t stop grinning. You try their names together in your mind, and smile some more.
Or perhaps it’s a death. In that case, previously insignificant events become weighty. Precious. Or excruciatingly painful. A whole imagined future suddenly vanishes in a moment, like an amputated limb, leaving phantom pains behind.
Now imagine the one weekend in which Jesus died. Lay in the grave for three long days. And just when (perhaps) His disciples were saying to themselves, “He’s dead” — and were just beginning to believe it —
Someone saw this…
and then this…
And then —
Then they began saying to themselves (tentatively? tearfully? triumphantly?) He’s — ALIVE!
That was news that changed everything.

