The Borrowed Grave

There is a divine irony in the fact that Jesus was buried in a borrowed tomb, as described in the Gospel account (Matthew 27:57-60). Joseph of Arimathea didn’t just perform an act of charity; he provided a temporary holding space for a miracle. Jesus never intended to sign a lifetime lease. The “title deed” to the grave was irrelevant because it wasn’t a final resting place, just a transit station on His journey.

Yet, despite this example, we spend our lives obsessed with permanence. Or at least I seem to and if you do too, you are in good company.

We measure our success by what we can secure, title, and control. We chase the “forever home,” the “senior” title, and a legacy set in stone. We treat our lives as if we’re purchasing monuments, but the Gospel reframes us as renters—stewards managing someone else’s property.

As a professional, there is constant pressure to “own” your space. You are encouraged to build a brand, secure a career path, and make a lasting impact. As a mother, the need to “get it right” can feel crushing, as if your child’s whole future depends on your actions between 5:00AM to 8:00 PM. I remember a moment not long ago, juggling a high-stakes presentation at work while keeping an eye on my son’s science project sprawled across the kitchen table. Instead of striving for perfection in either world, I chose to show up as I was—prepared, but at peace with whatever outcome unfolded. I told myself, “This is not mine to own, only to steward for today.” Whether the project earned a blue ribbon or my presentation got top marks, I focused on faithfully tending to what was in front of me, trusting that my worth was not measured by any one result.

Ownership is heavy. It whispers: Don’t mess this up, because this is all yours to lose.

But Jesus didn’t need to own the grave to conquer it. He passed through it. He used the space for its intended purpose and then moved on.

In contrast, when you shift from “owner” to “steward,” the atmospheric pressure in your life drops. Simply put, stewardship means taking care of something that ultimately belongs to someone else. Think of it like tending a garden you do not own—you nurture it, help it flourish, and leave it better than you found it, but you know it isn’t yours to keep. A steward understands: This is mine to care for, but it isn’t mine to keep.

• Your Job: A temporary assignment where you’re currently planted.
• Your Home: A tent for a season of hospitality.
• Your Kids: Entrusted to you, but they ultimately belong to Him.

This isn’t a “sugary” perspective that makes life easier; it’s a gritty one that makes life doable. It means you can show up to that high-stakes meeting or handle that toddler meltdown without your entire identity being on the line. If the project fails or the day is a disaster, your “ownership” of your soul isn’t threatened.

If you’re a parent running on caffeine and prayer, feeling like you’re constantly “in-between” or that your life lacks the stability you thought you’d have by now, look at the tomb. I mean, really pause and look at the tomb, again. Know that these feelings are not only normal but are seen and understood by God. There is nothing wrong or broken about being in a season of transition, and you are not overlooked in your uncertainty. You are cared for, even in the middle of the unknown.

The borrowed grave wasn’t a sign of poverty or poor planning. It was a statement of intent. God isn’t limited by your temporary roles, your “rental” circumstances, or your unfinished seasons. In fact, He specializes in them. Truly, thank God, He is so, so good.

You don’t need to cement your legacy today. The true takeaway: Be faithful and present in the space you’ve been given, even if it feels temporary. That is what matters most. Breathe. Do the work. Love the people. Forgive. And remember: the most powerful work God ever did happened in a place He was never planning to stay, reminding us that impact does not require permanence.

Prayer: Lord, help us to be faithful with what You have placed in our hands today. Give us peace in the temporary, courage to trust You in every uncertain moment, and wisdom to care well for all You entrust to us. Teach us to rest in Your presence and to release the outcomes, knowing You are at work in every season. Amen.