Risen Lord of All and One
It is with a great amount of joy and a small amount of trepidation that I look forward to Easter every year. It is a bittersweet holiday for me.
Every year I greet this holy day with some hesitation. Simply because every year, after church, my family does what we always do. Pack up the kids, drive on over to grandma’s house, and have an Easter egg hunt with the children. Which is all well and good. Except that my mother-in-law’s definition of “children” is anyone who is younger than her. That includes her fully grown children, like my wife, as well as their spouses, like me. So if you happen to be driving down Harmony Road in Middletown this afternoon. And you happen to see a middle-aged minister in his Sunday best sheepishly scouring a yard for plastic eggs like a five-year-old. Please… for the sake of my dignity… pretend you don’t know me.
That mildly embarrassing family ritual aside, Easter is one of my favorite holidays. And it’s not just because we get chocolate and jellybeans (although, to be fair, chocolate and jellybeans are pretty awesome). But because this is THE day of hope in the Christian church. This is the day that our faith pays off. This is the day that Christ’s love for humanity and his triumph over death are made known throughout the world.
Easter Sunday is a joy because this is the light at the end of the tunnel – this is the beacon in the storm.
We worship on Maundy Thursday, and commemorate the Last Supper, and the betrayal and arrest of our Lord Jesus. A dark day in the Christian faith.
On Good Friday we remember the crucifixion, and the sacrifice made by Christ on the cross – dying a criminal’s death in blood and torment. A dark day in the Christian faith.
We wait on Holy Saturday, sitting in the limbo between life and death. When the disciples could only mourn the death of Jesus – having no knowledge of the resurrection still to come. A dark day of confusion and doubt in the Christian faith.
And as each day grows more and more painful. From arrest, to death, to mourning and agony… suddenly, like a ray of brilliant sunshine driving the stormclouds away, we get to Easter morning. The morning when the stone is rolled away from the tomb and the tomb is empty. The morning the disciples discover that Jesus, far from being a corpse, is not there.
And do not forget that it is the women who discover the resurrection – Simon Peter and the other, unnamed disciple, see the tomb is empty and they go home, probably confused. Possibly angry – maybe assuming that someone has made off with the corpse. But it is the women, Mary Magdalene and Martha, who stay. That it’s Mary who spoke with the angels in the tomb. And
Mary who meets Jesus in the garden…
And she doesn’t recognize him.
Not at first.
When Jesus first addresses her, he calls her, “Woman.”
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
And she mistakes him for the gardener. And she tells him that they’ve carried the body of her Lord away.
But then he addresses her by her name.
“Mary.”
And when he says her name, that’s when the fog breaks and she is able to see him clearly and know who he is.
He calls her “Mary” and she sees him and knows him and calls him Rabbi.
I’d like to just sit in that moment of recognition for a moment.
What it must have been like for Mary to hear Jesus call out her name.
What sorts of thoughts and emotions must have flooded through her in that brief instant.
Relief – Relief that the man whom she has listened to, who was her teacher and her mentor, who taught her things about life and humanity and God – things that no other person in the world could teach – relief that he is not dead, but alive!
Anger, maybe. Just a flash of anger that she’s gone through the past 3 days. Seeing him arrested and beaten and tortured and killed. And she was a witness to all of it. And she’s prepared herself to mourn and live without him, and now all of sudden here he is, walking around like it’s no big thing.
Confusion. Certainly confusion. Because she was a witness to the death on the cross. She watched as his blood dripped down the cross and onto the dirt below. She was there that moment when life left his body and he was given over to death. And yet here he is.
Fear, perhaps. Both because A) she’s talking to a corpse. And B) fearful for her own sanity. This should not be possible. This has to be an illusion. Or a hallucination. For her to be seeing what she’s seeing and hearing what she’s hearing, she must be going mad.
Joy. Overflowing, abounding joy. Joy that her Lord is not dead. That everything he had said to them has come true. She sees him, he says her name, and she remembers what he has told them. That he is the temple, that he would be destroyed, but that the temple would rise again in 3 days. This is the third day, and the temple of God in the body of Christ Jesus is risen again. This is the moment of pure faith. And vindication. And love. And exaltation. And joy.
And this moment happens because Jesus calls her by her name.
That is the moment of clarity for her. When she is able to see that he’s not an unknown gardener. But that this is a man who knows her. Who sees her. Who loves her.
Our interactions with God these days tend to be a little less personal… The Holy Spirit walks with us and works in us, but it’s a bit difficult for the Spirit to press the flesh when it doesn’t have any flesh.
But even though God doesn’t walk alongside us in the form of a body the way that Jesus did, God is still calling out our names.
He knows us. Each and every one of us.
The same God who in the risen flesh of Jesus Christ called Mary by her name that day – that same God calls our names today. He gathers each of us into his kingdom. Not as a general summons to everyone who calls themselves a Christian. Not as a closed invitation to people who follow the rules the best, or read the Bible the most, or spend the most time in church. And God doesn’t call us by our tribe or nation – the call does not go out to Christian Americans or Christian Canadians or Christian Greeks or Slavs or Africans…
But rather… God seeks each of us by name.
God calls out to Jeff and to John, to Helen, to Dan... to each and every one of us here.
Our risen God is God of all, but even among the billions of people who are saved, each and every one of us is known to Him.
None of us are lost in the shuffle. No one is left behind or forgotten. Every single one of us here is known to God. And we are gathered because we have heard God calling to us and recognized his voice.
For some of us, we may hear that calling, loudly and clearly, day after day, and follow that voice, not just into church, but throughout every hour of all our days, and that’s wonderful.
For others of us, it may just be a nagging idea at the back of our minds that we should make an effort to pray once in a while, go to church once in a while, check in with God once in a while, even if we’re not in the habit of doing any of those.
If that’s the case, I know that stepping into a church for the first time in a long time, or for the first time ever, can be intimidating, so I thank you for taking that step. Know that you are welcome, and God knows your name, and wants you to be here.
God knows you. Each and every one of you. God knows you because God wants to know you. Not so he can keep score. Not so he can mark down every little misdemeanor you’ve ever committed, or every little white lie you’ve ever told.
God knows you because he loves you.
Ours is a God of many things. God of creation, of majesty, of victory, of justice… But above all he is a God of love. Love for all humanity, created in his image, known to him by name. That love covers the whole world, yet is still directed, intentionally, at each and every one of us.
And he shows us that love in the gift of his son, Jesus Christ. Who conquered sin by his sacrifice on the cross. Who conquered death in his resurrection. Who lives in glory and is our greatest advocate in heaven.
Through Jesus Christ, who is our Risen Lord, we are each known, we are each loved, and we are each made worthy of God’s holy kingdom. Amen.
Please pray with me,
Holy Lord of grace and mercy, we give you thanks this Easter morning. We lift up our praises to your Holy Name. You have blessed us, your people, many times over in many ways. Yet your greatest blessing to us was given in the life of your own son, Jesus Christ. His death was the atonement for the sins of the whole world. And his resurrection is the proof of your mercy, which seals your love for us forever on our hearts. This is a gift we can never repay. But we accept it humbly, out of loving gratitude for you. May all honor and glory in all things go to you, our Loving God, now and forever. Amen.
It is with a great amount of joy and a small amount of trepidation that I look forward to Easter every year. It is a bittersweet holiday for me.
Every year I greet this holy day with some hesitation. Simply because every year, after church, my family does what we always do. Pack up the kids, drive on over to grandma’s house, and have an Easter egg hunt with the children. Which is all well and good. Except that my mother-in-law’s definition of “children” is anyone who is younger than her. That includes her fully grown children, like my wife, as well as their spouses, like me. So if you happen to be driving down Harmony Road in Middletown this afternoon. And you happen to see a middle-aged minister in his Sunday best sheepishly scouring a yard for plastic eggs like a five-year-old. Please… for the sake of my dignity… pretend you don’t know me.
That mildly embarrassing family ritual aside, Easter is one of my favorite holidays. And it’s not just because we get chocolate and jellybeans (although, to be fair, chocolate and jellybeans are pretty awesome). But because this is THE day of hope in the Christian church. This is the day that our faith pays off. This is the day that Christ’s love for humanity and his triumph over death are made known throughout the world.
Easter Sunday is a joy because this is the light at the end of the tunnel – this is the beacon in the storm.
We worship on Maundy Thursday, and commemorate the Last Supper, and the betrayal and arrest of our Lord Jesus. A dark day in the Christian faith.
On Good Friday we remember the crucifixion, and the sacrifice made by Christ on the cross – dying a criminal’s death in blood and torment. A dark day in the Christian faith.
We wait on Holy Saturday, sitting in the limbo between life and death. When the disciples could only mourn the death of Jesus – having no knowledge of the resurrection still to come. A dark day of confusion and doubt in the Christian faith.
And as each day grows more and more painful. From arrest, to death, to mourning and agony… suddenly, like a ray of brilliant sunshine driving the stormclouds away, we get to Easter morning. The morning when the stone is rolled away from the tomb and the tomb is empty. The morning the disciples discover that Jesus, far from being a corpse, is not there.
And do not forget that it is the women who discover the resurrection – Simon Peter and the other, unnamed disciple, see the tomb is empty and they go home, probably confused. Possibly angry – maybe assuming that someone has made off with the corpse. But it is the women, Mary Magdalene and Martha, who stay. That it’s Mary who spoke with the angels in the tomb. And
Mary who meets Jesus in the garden…
And she doesn’t recognize him.
Not at first.
When Jesus first addresses her, he calls her, “Woman.”
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
And she mistakes him for the gardener. And she tells him that they’ve carried the body of her Lord away.
But then he addresses her by her name.
“Mary.”
And when he says her name, that’s when the fog breaks and she is able to see him clearly and know who he is.
He calls her “Mary” and she sees him and knows him and calls him Rabbi.
I’d like to just sit in that moment of recognition for a moment.
What it must have been like for Mary to hear Jesus call out her name.
What sorts of thoughts and emotions must have flooded through her in that brief instant.
Relief – Relief that the man whom she has listened to, who was her teacher and her mentor, who taught her things about life and humanity and God – things that no other person in the world could teach – relief that he is not dead, but alive!
Anger, maybe. Just a flash of anger that she’s gone through the past 3 days. Seeing him arrested and beaten and tortured and killed. And she was a witness to all of it. And she’s prepared herself to mourn and live without him, and now all of sudden here he is, walking around like it’s no big thing.
Confusion. Certainly confusion. Because she was a witness to the death on the cross. She watched as his blood dripped down the cross and onto the dirt below. She was there that moment when life left his body and he was given over to death. And yet here he is.
Fear, perhaps. Both because A) she’s talking to a corpse. And B) fearful for her own sanity. This should not be possible. This has to be an illusion. Or a hallucination. For her to be seeing what she’s seeing and hearing what she’s hearing, she must be going mad.
Joy. Overflowing, abounding joy. Joy that her Lord is not dead. That everything he had said to them has come true. She sees him, he says her name, and she remembers what he has told them. That he is the temple, that he would be destroyed, but that the temple would rise again in 3 days. This is the third day, and the temple of God in the body of Christ Jesus is risen again. This is the moment of pure faith. And vindication. And love. And exaltation. And joy.
And this moment happens because Jesus calls her by her name.
That is the moment of clarity for her. When she is able to see that he’s not an unknown gardener. But that this is a man who knows her. Who sees her. Who loves her.
Our interactions with God these days tend to be a little less personal… The Holy Spirit walks with us and works in us, but it’s a bit difficult for the Spirit to press the flesh when it doesn’t have any flesh.
But even though God doesn’t walk alongside us in the form of a body the way that Jesus did, God is still calling out our names.
He knows us. Each and every one of us.
The same God who in the risen flesh of Jesus Christ called Mary by her name that day – that same God calls our names today. He gathers each of us into his kingdom. Not as a general summons to everyone who calls themselves a Christian. Not as a closed invitation to people who follow the rules the best, or read the Bible the most, or spend the most time in church. And God doesn’t call us by our tribe or nation – the call does not go out to Christian Americans or Christian Canadians or Christian Greeks or Slavs or Africans…
But rather… God seeks each of us by name.
God calls out to Jeff and to John, to Helen, to Dan... to each and every one of us here.
Our risen God is God of all, but even among the billions of people who are saved, each and every one of us is known to Him.
None of us are lost in the shuffle. No one is left behind or forgotten. Every single one of us here is known to God. And we are gathered because we have heard God calling to us and recognized his voice.
For some of us, we may hear that calling, loudly and clearly, day after day, and follow that voice, not just into church, but throughout every hour of all our days, and that’s wonderful.
For others of us, it may just be a nagging idea at the back of our minds that we should make an effort to pray once in a while, go to church once in a while, check in with God once in a while, even if we’re not in the habit of doing any of those.
If that’s the case, I know that stepping into a church for the first time in a long time, or for the first time ever, can be intimidating, so I thank you for taking that step. Know that you are welcome, and God knows your name, and wants you to be here.
God knows you. Each and every one of you. God knows you because God wants to know you. Not so he can keep score. Not so he can mark down every little misdemeanor you’ve ever committed, or every little white lie you’ve ever told.
God knows you because he loves you.
Ours is a God of many things. God of creation, of majesty, of victory, of justice… But above all he is a God of love. Love for all humanity, created in his image, known to him by name. That love covers the whole world, yet is still directed, intentionally, at each and every one of us.
And he shows us that love in the gift of his son, Jesus Christ. Who conquered sin by his sacrifice on the cross. Who conquered death in his resurrection. Who lives in glory and is our greatest advocate in heaven.
Through Jesus Christ, who is our Risen Lord, we are each known, we are each loved, and we are each made worthy of God’s holy kingdom. Amen.
Please pray with me,
Holy Lord of grace and mercy, we give you thanks this Easter morning. We lift up our praises to your Holy Name. You have blessed us, your people, many times over in many ways. Yet your greatest blessing to us was given in the life of your own son, Jesus Christ. His death was the atonement for the sins of the whole world. And his resurrection is the proof of your mercy, which seals your love for us forever on our hearts. This is a gift we can never repay. But we accept it humbly, out of loving gratitude for you. May all honor and glory in all things go to you, our Loving God, now and forever. Amen.