He had been Resting, presumably In Peace, for three days. But He was no R.I.P.van Winkle. For one thing, He had not been asleep; He was DEAD ! Three days in the tomb were quite enough for Him. He had, of course, taken the precaution to put on hold the normal post-mortem putresence that sets in pretty quickly, especially at a time, two thousand years ago, when refrigerated morgues had not yet been invented, and in a country where it’s already quite hot in April. He didn’t have much in the way of decent clothing, an oversight no doubt, as He was about to appear to a lady, who for some reason would mistake him for a somewhat oddly dressed gardener. The story gets better as it goes along. The best part is when He meets up with two guys who didn’t recognize Him either at first, on their way to Emmaüs. Took a while for them to cotton on to what later would be called His Resurrection.
If you refuse to believe all this, you’re on your way to Hell, brother. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Rise and shine, my friend ! Praise the Lord and enjoy your Easter eggs with the other kiddies.