April 12, 2020
The Day of Resurrection
Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
We are risen! We are risen, indeed! Alleluia!
Now, that’s a little different, isn’t it? But, it seems this Resurrection day, being a little different anyway, it’s a good time to be different in a sanctified way. I heard that refrain when I was a student at the Seminary. One of my professors, Dr. Reed Lessing who now is pastor in Ft. Wayne, IN, began his sermon that way on the morning of May 4, 2000. It was eleven days after Easter. We had started to lag in our Easter joy, and I suspect he intentionally introduced his sermon this way to return our attention to the gifts the resurrection gives. So, say it with me, again:
Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
We are risen! We are risen, indeed! Alleluia!
I remember this for two reasons: one, that morning I went and asked him for a copy of the sermon; he was gracious enough to share a copy with me and I have it in my files. But the reason I asked for a copy of that sermon is reason number two: it was nine days after my Dad had died, and it was my first day back at school. Pastor Lessing preached a message I needed to hear. He preached a resurrection message I needed to hear. He preached a resurrection message that every person needs to hear: “That we are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” For a man who was still grieving his father’s death and who was trying to live in the resurrection promise of Christ Jesus those were words of strength, comfort, and hope in some rather hard days.
Our current situation brought all of this to the forefront of my mind as I was working on this morning’s sermon. As I said, this is not a typical Easter – but, that’s no secret, is it. Women aren’t in their Easter finery and men didn’t bother to shine their boots. Many of you are probably still in pajamas, ladies with hair undone and men with cheeks unshaved. Two and three generations won’t be gathering around the big table today and cousins won’t be fighting cousin for the most eggs found. Instead of the full-throated singing of the congregation, you hear the echo of the nearly empty room. I’ve had people tell me how much they appreciate receiving the services this way, via print and video stream, but we all know it’s just not the same. There is still joy, don’t get me wrong – after all, Christ is risen and risen, indeed, but there’s just something missing here in our heart. If we need a word to describe it, it would be “empty” – empty of all those things we have come to expect and appreciate.
For the previous three years, the women had followed Jesus, along with the disciples and the crowds. For the previous three years they saw, listened and believed. They, with the twelve, were filled with hopes and expectations of who Jesus was, what He was coming to do, and what kind of kingdom He would usher in. And, yes, they had heard Jesus speak quite plainly about the fact that He must go to Jerusalem, be arrested, be crucified and die. They heard Him talk about it repeatedly. But, it’s one thing to talk about dying. It’s a whole ‘nother thing when it actually happens. And, that Holy Weekend, from the time Jesus breathed His last to that early Sunday morning, their world had been turned upside down and emptied of everything.
Don’t be too hard on them: these are the laws of nature. They had watched in horror as the One who declared Himself to be the Way and the Truth and the Life died. They heard the One who declared Himself to be the Resurrection and the Life cry out “It is finished.” They knew that Jesus’ dead, nail and sword pierced body had been hurriedly placed in an empty tomb.
Then, finally, Sabbath was done. It was dawn, just as the sun is rising, of a new day, a new beginning. The Sabbath rest was complete; it was time to complete what was done in haste late Friday afternoon. The women were carrying spices so they could properly care for Jesus’ body. What they expected was a body; what they anticipated were soldiers they could talk into helping them roll away a stone; what they hoped for was an hour or two where they could perform one final act of servitude to the one whom they called Lord and Master.
And what they found was a tomb, emptied of Jesus but filled with something unexpected: resurrection. Two men, angels, sat where Jesus’ body had laid. Angels were the first to announce Christ’s birth in Bethlehem, and they were the first to announce His resurrection. It’s fitting – angel means “messenger” after all, and they certainly had a message to proclaim. In the person of Jesus, God had descended from heaven and taken on human flesh, born of the virgin, lived a sinless life in our stead, died a vicarious death, to pay the atonement purchase price for our sins. The angels were declaring that the Father accepted the Son’s death as payment-in-full; sin forgiven fully and freely in Jesus death and the resurrection declared it to be true.
The tomb was empty of a body, but it was filled with Good News.
Earlier, I said that today feels empty. Maybe, just maybe, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. If Easter has been emptied of it’s Easter-ness with its fine clothes and chocolates, if it’s been stripped of family feasts and frolicking, if it’s been separated from bunnies and chicks, this may not be such a bad thing. This year, we are forced to do two things: repent for our Easterness and rejoice in the resurrection.
Repent for our Easterness: for letting all these other things get in the way of Christ Crucified and Risen. Repent for letting our Easter preparation get in the way of our preparing to receive the resurrection message. Repent for thinking the day is about bunnies and hidden eggs instead of an empty cross and an empty tomb. Repent for worrying more about hurrying home to get the ham out of the oven before it dries out instead of sitting with the women in wonderous joy that Christ is risen as He said. Repent for letting Easter get in the way of the resurrection of Jesus.
I’ve said it before, and it’s worth repeating again. Arnold Kunz, a sainted Lutheran pastor, was fond of saying that life gets hard, and life narrows down. We certainly have experienced those things these past few weeks. All those things we have taken for granted in life - from the simple freedom of going shopping when and where we want, to the faith-encouragement we receive in gathering together as a family of God for corporate worship – life has gotten hard. This unseen enemy that kills in a seemingly wanton and randomly willful way has reminded us how feeble and frail we as people are, and it reminds us how desperately we do need Jesus. Life has narrowed down, indeed. And in our lives that have gotten harder, and in our lives that have narrowed down, we find ourselves walking along with the two Marys along the path, heading toward the tomb, emptied of everything we might otherwise have in our heads, hands, and minds.
And, with the Marys, what we discover is that Easter, with all of its trappings and trailings, is left behind and what stands in front of us is an empty cross and and an empty tomb. It may be an empty Easter but not empty resurrection.
So, today change your terms. Don’t call it Easter. Today is emptied of Easter. Call it resurrection day because the tomb is emptied and the day is filled with Jesus. Jesus has saved you from sin, death, and satan’s power and in His resurrection, you are given all of the gifts of children of God including forgiveness, life and salvation. You are Christ’s and He is yours.
That is the reason to be joyful and joy-filled on this strange, yet still holy day. It is resurrection day.
I began with Pastor Lessing’s words from 20 years ago. One day - and I pray it is sooner than later - one day in the day of the great resurrection when Jesus returns and when we all are standing before the throne of the Lamb, with our own graves emptied and our bodies resurrected and whole, on that day you and I will raise our voices with Pastor Lessing and join him in saying in an entirely new way:
Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
We are risen! We are risen, indeed! Alleluia!
Now may the God of hope fill you with joy and peace as you trust in Him, that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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