Your Emmaus Journey - Luke 24: 13-35

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel lesson from Luke 24.

Today is the third Sunday after Easter. By now, the Cadburry chocolates, Reese’s rabbits, and Robin’s eggs are consumed, and the baskets - along with the joie de vivre from mere two weeks ago - are stowed until next spring. For most of us, we’ve moved on from Easter, getting ready for the next big thing – probably graduations for kids, grandkids and friends. So, when St. Luke returns us to Easter with this reading, the implication for us 21^st century Christians is that the Resurrection continues. It’s not just a one-and-done event. The power of resurrection fills our lives and our witness to others.

Let’s do a quick time travel and go back to Easter afternoon. The morning’s exciting news that had been reported by the women, Peter, and John was met with something between skepticism and curiosity for these Emmaus travelers.  There was a lot to digest: Jesus’ betrayal, His arrest and trial, His crucifixion, and now His reported, but yet unwitnessed (by them) resurrection. They were talking about it all, trying to make it make sense. “Was He living or…”

When a Stranger approached and asked the equivalent of today’s “What’s up,” Cleopas gave a quick summary of the weekend, culminating with the hope they had of Jesus’ redeeming Israel. There was still a glimmer of resurrection hope in his words – he referenced the Third Day – and he also mentioned the ladies’ eyewitness testimony of the empty grave. But that was the problem for these two: the grave was empty. There was no body – living or dead. So, it was an open question: Was He living or was He…”

This Stranger engages the pair, softly chiding them: “You foolish ones and slow of heart.” He’s not reprimanding as much as teaching them: you had the answers all along! “It was necessary, wasn’t it, for the Christ to have to do all of this,” He began, and going through the Scriptures – what we would call the Old Testament – He connects the dots, interpreting and explaining how it all came to fruition. God’s plan of salvation, promised before Moses, then throughout all the prophets, was completed in the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus.

The Stranger accepts their invitation and hospitality to stay the night in their home. When the meal is served, the Stranger breaks bread and blesses the meal. Where a few nights earlier, the Last Supper was celebrated in the upper room, that afternoon in Emmaus, the First Supper is celebrated as He becoming both guest and host, the beginning of the eternal feast in the Kingdom of God.

Suddenly, these weary and worn travelers, who had been discussing the death and resurrection of Jesus, realize that the Stranger is none other than the Resurrected One Himself. And, instantly, He disappears. A few hours earlier, they were dismissive and confused of the resurrection reports. Now, they become resurrection eyewitnesses – not just of an empty tomb, but of the resurrected, whole and holy Jesus.

It does beg the question, why were they kept from recognizing Jesus? Luke tells us “their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” Why would that be? Consider what kind of Messiah they were looking for. “We had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel.” They were looking for social-political redemption from the dreaded Romans, for a Messiah-Savior to set Israel free and return it to the free state and power that it was on under David. Jesus didn’t do that. In fact, He didn’t meet many expectations. So, how would it be helpful for them to not recognize Jesus?

They needed to understand who and what Messiah really was. Not a political redeemer, but a redeemer from sin, death and everlasting condemnation. They needed to see Jesus for who He is and what He is, not what they wanted Him to be. “And beginning with Moses and the Prophets, He opened the Scriptures to them…” Boy, wouldn’t you have loved to have been a fly on the shoulder for that Bible class. Jesus, conducting a master class in reading and understanding the Law and Prophets spoke of. Could you imagine how He connects passages, organizes themes, and reveals the heilsgeschichte (God’s plan of salvation) for mankind?

He may have identified Himself as the Good Shepherd of Psalm 23, but also the good shepherd promised in Ezekiel 34. He might have connected the great sacrifices of the Temple with Himself as the sacrifice for the sins of the world. Perhaps he reminded them of the Passover lambs that had been killed only a few days earlier in remembrance of the great Exodus narrative and identified Himself as the perfect, once-for-all Lamb of God. Maybe He helped them see how He was the fulfillment of Isaiah’s suffering servant.

Don’t you wish you were on the Emmaus Road that Sunday afternoon, listening to the Jesus expound and explore the Scriptures? Wouldn’t you have loved to have all of those dots connected for you, how Moses and the Prophets all pointed ahead to the Coming One? What a Bible class that would be!

I’ve lost track of the times I have heard people say how they wish they could be with Jesus, that they could walk and talk with Him, sit with Him at a meal, have Him as a houseguest and just spend time with Him. Perhaps, because it’s a time of trial and seeing and hearing Him would strengthen weak faith. Other times, it may be because we just don’t understand the Bible and wish it were clearer. I admit: there are days I wish that as well, for both those reasons!, and having a word – just a word – with Jesus would help make it all clearer. Oh, to have a moment like what took place on the Emmaus road!

Martin Luther said something like, “No matter where you were to cut the Scriptures, the blood of Jesus would spill out.” He didn’t mean it literally, of course. He was referring to how the Old Testament points ahead to the Messiah to come and the New Testament proclaims the Christ who came and pledges to come again. In every page of the Bible you read, Jesus is there. The Word made flesh is alive in the words on the page. You do have a very present and sure Jesus who comes to you in every page of the Bible. We know that, but why don’t we always see Him there?

One of the things I find frustrating when reading the Bible is the names that get dropped into the text, mentioned, and then disappear. It happens regularly. I have lost track of the times people have asked about Melchizedek, the mysterious priest who blessed Abraham, or Jabez, whose prayer sold millions of books thousands of years after he died, or Onesimus, the slave that inspired Paul’s letter to Philemon. Most of those names, we’ll never know anything about – at least, not on this side of eternity.

We find one of those names here: Clepoas. He suddenly appears without a prelude or postlude, neither footnote nor bibliographical reference. Literally, all we know is he was one of the two heading toward Emmaus and that he was a disciple. That’s it.

But, at least he has a name.  “That very day, two of them were walking toward Emmaus…” One was Cleopas, as we said, but what of the other? Who was Disciple Number Two?

If I were a gambling man (I’m not, but let’s play the game), I would bet it was Luke. His not naming himself was a way that the ancients admitted they were part of a story without naming themselves as part of the story. Inclusion by exclusion, if you will. I suggest Luke was Cleopas’ unnamed companion who got to visit with the resurrected Jesus.

Now, that is sheer speculation – I admit it. Historically, textually, theologically, I can’t prove it in the slightest. So, since I’m on a limb anyway, let’s try something. I want you to create in your mind a picture of the two traveling alongside Jesus. Got it? Now, look closely at the one on the left; that’s Cleopas. Look closely at his face: see his stern look, deep eyes, dark complexion and beard? Now, imagine his face slowly begin to lighten as Jesus speaks. Do you see his brow lifting, his frown turning into a smile, edging into a grin, his eyes brightening, his shoulders straightening? His spirit is lifting as slowly, his heart begins to understand. Now, look at the other traveler. Look closely...what does that disciple look like? Look more closely...who do you see? Look closely…

See yourself in the face of the other, unnamed disciple. Perhaps that is what Luke intended (did you notice in the painting, above, how you see Jesus and Cleopas' face, but not the other? I submit that's what the artist is suggesting as well) – that you, dear 21^st century disciple of Jesus, you see yourself walking along the road, journeying through life this side of heaven. And,, do you see who is there with you? Jesus. You journey with Jesus, in your Baptism, from cross and tomb to life. More than that, Jesus journeys with you, from font to resurrection and all steps in between.  You know Jesus, not from what you have seen with your eyes but with spirit-given faith. You see Jesus, not as a failed messianic pariah who didn’t meet expectations but as God who took on flesh to dwell among us to take our place. You see Jesus, not as a social hero for the helpless but as the champion who rescues the world. You see Jesus not as one who came out on the losing end of a political but as one who surrendered to sinful men so He could fulfill His Father’s plan of salvation. 

You see Jesus, your Savior who died, whose, and who restored you to the Father. 

Stop Doubting and Be Believing - John 20: 19-31

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel lesson, John 20.

It’s Easter evening. That morning, Peter and John rushed to the empty tomb and rushed back to tell the others that Jesus was risen, as He said. Mary has encountered both the heavenly angel with his message of resurrection and Jesus Himself, alive and better-than-well. The Emmaus disciples welcomed the unknown traveler who was revealed as Jesus, only after He broke bread with them. They, too, ran back to Jerusalem with the news. Over and over, the evidence and the message were clear: Jesus is alive! He has risen as He said!

But for 10 men in the upper room, there is a disconnect between what they witnessed and heard and what they were feeling. It’s interesting to me that John doesn’t say anything new about their faith at this point. I suspect that having noted that they believed Jesus’ resurrection at the empty tomb in the morning, we must assume that they were still believing, though still not understanding. Thus, do not think they are hiding because they are afraid Jesus was faking it, or somehow dead again. They were behind locked doors, “for fear of the Jews.” A better way to understand the depth of their fear is “terrified,” thinking “as went our Master, so will we go.” If the Jewish and social leaders colluded to put Jesus, the Christ, to death, how much more at risk are we? The Ten imagined their posters to be on every post office wall throughout Jerusalem: Wanted, dead or alive.

You can imagine that when Jesus appears, they about jumped out of their robes and sandals. That’s why His message is clear, simple and to the point. He speaks one word: peace. We talked about this a few weeks ago, that we often think of peace as absence of conflict. That’s true, but that is a definition from the negative: what something is not. Instead, think of peace from the positive: what it is. Peace is restoration, wholeness, reunion. When Jesus declared peace, He is proclaiming that the wholeness that once perfectly existed between God and Man, before it was destroyed by sin, has been restored. God’s wrath is appeased; His pleasure is restored. The relationship between God and Man is, well, at peace.  

When Jesus proclaims a message, the words deliver exactly what the words say. “Peace be with you.” When He speaks peace, that message also brings restoration of peacefulness to the Ten. Without adding any extra words, it’s as if Jesus was saying, “…and stop letting fear drive you.”

Jesus then commissions the disciples to be deliverers of the peace they have received. Proclaiming forgiveness is the distribution of peace, proclaiming that sins that caused separation have been paid for by Christ’s death. With that very saving act fresh in their minds, the proclamation would have been visual as well as verbal: we saw it; we hear it; now, we speak it to others.

Unfortunately, Thomas Didymus was absent. One wonders where he was. Perhaps he was hiding on his own, not trusting anyone – remember, one of his friends, Judas, had betrayed Jesus. Perhaps he was with other friends, listening for the inevitable clank of armor and swords at the door of their home. Wherever he was, he was filled with angst, worry, fear. He was without peace. He was not yet restored. So, later, when the others told him of the news of seeing Jesus, he was in denial. “Unless I see and touch, I refuse to believe.”

Poor guy. He gets an unfair brand, don’t you think? We don’t call Peter “The Denier.” We don’t call Matthew “The Crook.” We don’t call James “The One Who Mocked His Brother, Jesus.” Only Thomas gets stuck with the Scarlet Name of Doubter.

I resonate with Thomas. Faith is not one of my spiritual gifts. Hand-wringing and chin rubbing, unfortunately, are. The irony is that worry is the allusion that our selfish actions can impact the outcome. Worry is faith inside-out, clinging to the trouble, where faith focused on Christ surrenders to the good and gracious will of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. I know that, I teach that, I preach that, yet I struggle with it. I know I am not alone. To be honest, I admire and almost covet – not sure whether that’s a 9^th or 10^th Commandment issue - “envy” (to use the term) those with great faith who can cling to the love of God when it seems everything is backwards. So, in moments when my already minimal faith is shaken and shaking, I cling to two things:

The first is this promise of God through Isaiah (42:3): “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.” Even though my faith is weak, that does not disparage me in the eyes of God for the sake of Christ Jesus.

The second thing I cling to is with Thomas, himself – or, to be more specific, with Jesus’ interaction with Thomas. Listen again to the interaction: A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”

Notice that Jesus does not scold Thomas. He doesn’t chastise Thomas for his doubts or his insistence on seeing and touching Jesus. Instead, Jesus speaks that same word of peace to Thomas. He doesn’t mock Thomas’ need to see and touch. Instead, Jesus invites him to touch and see. And when Thomas finally proclaims, “My Lord and my God!,” Jesus simply tells him to stop being a disbeliever and to believe, and fills him with the peace of belief.

John 20:27-28 - Full of Eyes
Used with permission

That’s what faith does. It clings to the promises of God that are unseen. Thomas hadn’t seen the resurrected Christ, so he refused to believe. When he stopped refusing to believe, the Spirit rushed in with faith to cling to the One who grants faith in the first place.

A moment ago, I admitted I struggle with faith and I said I suspect some of you do as well. I say that based on a lot of years of hearing people talk about the struggle of living under the cross, this side of heaven. It’s one thing to hear, listen and believe here, in the sanctuary, in this house of God, but sometimes “out there,” where faith crashes against the pavement and life comes hard, sometimes faith is shaken. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve heard people say, “I wish I could see Jesus like the disciples did.” To an extent, I can understand that. But, when I hear that sentiment, I remind them that even when the disciples saw Jesus, when they touched Him, when they broke bread with Him, they still struggled with faith as well. Consider Thomas. So, when I hear that – or when I feel it myself – I lean back into these words of blessing from Jesus Himself:

Then Jesus told [Thomas], “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Listen to that second sentence again: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Remember, how Jesus words deliver what they say? For you, and for me, who have not yet seen Jesus with these eyes, Jesus blesses us with the very faith necessary to have faith in Him, whose faith is made perfect for us. And, to make sure that faith continues to grow – Jesus is not content to leave us with minute, miniscule faith; He continues to strengthen and magnify that faith – to make sure that faith continues to grow, He gives us His very Word in Scripture. “These are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” If you feel your faith isn’t even up to a bruised reed or hardly has a spark left in the wick of faith, open the Scriptures and let the blessing of Jesus flow from His words to you and be strengthened and energized as that same Spirit, blown upon the disciples in the upper room on Easter evening, He comes to us in Baptism, in the Word, at the Table of the Lord to create, strengthen, and enliven faith in Him.

Sir Robert Browning, the English poet, once penned a sonnet called “Bishop Blougram's Apology.” It’s a dialogue between Bishop Blougram and a journalist. After listening to the journalist go off on the foolishness of faith, Blougram said:

You call for faith:
I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists.
The more of doubt, the stronger faith, I say,
If faith o'ercomes doubt.

I learned those lines a long time ago. Faith isn’t given in a vacuum; it’s given and strengthened when tested against doubt.

Unfortunately, Thomas mostly disappears from the pages of Scripture after this. We know very little of the one who has unfairly been branded “Doubter.” But, according to legend, Thomas’ doubts were so assuaged that he became an evangelist and apostle to what is now the area in and around India. As Paul was to Europe, Thomas was to southern Asia. To this day, he is considered the greatest Christian missionary ever to that part of the world.  

I don’t know that I’ll ever have my doubts assuaged to that level, but I continue to cling to the One who’s faith is perfect, and who’s weakness is greater than any possible strength of mine could be.

If you are like me, then stop doubting. In fact, repent of the doubts and the clinging to worry as if you can control things, and instead begin believing. Turn to the pages of Scripture where that faith, battered and broken it may be, is bound up and fanned into flame that burns brightly with the love of God, through Christ Jesus our Lord.

 

 

Living With Easter Hope & Joy - Matthew 28: 1-11

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

We know that very simple, but very powerful truth. We know the Easter message. We know, believe, trust and rely on the angels’ three-word sermon, “He has risen,” and we rejoice and celebrate what those words mean: our sins are paid in full with the suffering and death of Jesus; peace with the Father is restored; we are atoned-for by the blood of Christ, so that God sees us as holy and redeemed. He has risen. The resurrection and the empty grave both stand as holy evidence that all of these things are true.

We know and believe all of those things, so our gathering this morning is marked with celebration. Alleluia returns to our liturgy and hymnody. The heavy tone and message of the Lenten hymns is gone; the brighter, triumphant hymns and melodies soar while the organ thunders. The hidden glory of Jesus at the cross behind man’s attempt to silence and murder Jesus is replaced with the open glory of the Good News of Jesus’ resurrection. Whether it’s the first-hand narratives of a resurrected Jesus in the Gospels or the proclamation of the same resurrection message through the book of Acts, the resurrection is front-and-center in our worship lives today and throughout the season of Easter.

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

We know this. We believe this. But it is worth remembering this morning that on that first Easter, while it was still dark, as Mary Magdelene and the other Mary went to the tomb, they did not know these things. For them, the horrors of Good Friday were still fresh in their minds. I can imagine that they spent Sabbath, the thirty-some hours since Jesus died, restlessly mourning and stealthily preparing the necessary oils and spices for a proper burial – something they were prevented from doing Friday because of the beginning of Sabbath at sundown, shortly after Jesus gave up His spirit. Weighed down with spices and aloes, plodding towards Jesus’ grave, they were also weighed down with grief. I imagine they were discussing logistics: how to do the sacred, loving act of wrapping the body properly; how to get the massive stone rolled away from the mouth of the tomb; whether the soldiers who were standing guard would even let them near the grave, let alone allow them to enter. That morning, for those two women, it was not yet “Easter.” It was not a resurrection celebration. It was a day of mourning and lamenting the hard reality of the death of their Lord, their Master, Jesus of Nazareth.

All of their wondering, all of their fearful drudgery comes to a shaking halt as an earthquake rocks the earth. Where the ground shook Friday in mourning for the death of the Lord of Creation, Sunday morning, it shook with joy. Even creation responds to the message: just as the darkness of night is pushed aside as the sunshine begins to glow on the eastern horizon, so the darkness of sin, death, and the grave, is pushed aside as the Son of God incarnate rises. He has risen. Heaven joins the celebration as an angelic messenger, radiant in snow-white clothing, descends to roll back the stone. Angel means messenger, remember, and his actions to open the grave present the visible message while his words to the women proclaim the message: Christ has risen, indeed. Even the guards, who were knocked out at the sight of the angel, can’t ignore the obvious: the grave they protected is empty. The One whom they guarded is gone. Christ has risen.

We could stop there with that announcement and that would be enough. He has risen declares God’s plan of salvation in the death of Christ is complete. The Father accepted Jesus’ death-payment for our own sins’ wages. If all the angel said was those three words, He has risen, that would still be the greatest Easter proclamation of all.

But he added three small words, three important words, that cannot be overlooked. “As He said.” As He said, as Jesus said – not what he, the angel, said. That’s what a messenger does. He delivers what has been told to him. By saying this, the angel defers to Jesus Himself. It’s as if the angel was saying, “Listen! You don’t have to believe me. Believe Him – the same one who called Lazarus from the grave, who declared Himself to be the resurrection and the life, who said He must go to Jerusalem and be delivered into the hands of men, and that they would kill him, and then promised that He would die and three days later be raised. Believe His Word, His promises. They are trustworthy and true. And, if you don’t believe me, if you don’t believe His own words, then look – see for yourself. He isn’t here. He has risen as He said.”

Throughout the Old Testament, God called prophets to speak in His name. They had two specific tasks: to forth-tell and to foretell. Forth tell is to say, “Thus saith the Lord,” and to deliver the words God gave them to say. Sometimes those words were hard words of Law, calling people to repentance. Sometimes, those were words of Good News, words of forgiveness, remembrance, grace and compassion. And, sometimes, to better enable the people to believe – especially when the words were almost too much to believe - God allowed the prophet to foretell, to prophecy, to predict something that was to come. For example, Elijah foretold the three-year drought that would strike Israel. The purpose of those prophesies was to give credence to all of the prophet’s words. If this thing that I foretold happened as God declared, then all the other words I speak in His name are also true.

Now, take that idea and apply it to Jesus. If His death and His resurrection happened as Jesus declared, and His Word was shown to be true, then all of the things He said are true as well – including the promise that an Easter resurrection awaits us – are true as well.

It is no small thing that this takes place very early on the first day of the week. Matthew calls it the day after Sabbath. We would call it Sunday. Sunday is when creation began in Genesis; it came to completion on Sabbath, what we call Saturday, and on that 7^th day, God rested. With the resurrection, when else would you expect a new creation to begin, a new heaven and a new earth to be opened, the dawning of a new life in Christ but at the beginning of a new week? The old week, the old creation, the old adam is completely redeemed and reconciled through the blood of Jesus. “It is finished,” remember? He didn’t mean His life; Jesus meant God’s plan of salvation. The exchange was complete: Jesus’ life for the lives of the world; Jesus’ death substituting for the eternal death of all mankind; Jesus’ holiness in exchange for the sins of the world. All of it: “it is finished.” And on the 7^th day, that holy Sabbath after Good Friday, God’s Friday, Christ rested in the tomb from His work of redemption. As is the week, as is God’s plan of salvation. Rest is followed by resurrection. Resurrection Day begins a new week; it’s the dawning of a new creation, an 8th day of creation, if you will. Resurrection ushers in a new beginning; it gives new life. He who was dead is alive. He who was buried is raised. He who was restrained cannot be contained any longer – not by creation, not by a stone, not by a grave, not by death. He has risen!

On Easter day, it is easy to get caught up in the romance of the day and forget that there is also a word of future promise of the angel: He has gone before us. Now, in the context of the reading, the angel means that Jesus has gone to Galilee and the disciples will find Him there. Before His ascension, He will appear to the twelve disciples and hundreds more as eye-witness proof of the resurrection, demonstrating the angel and the grave were telling the truth. But, for us in the 21^st century, “He has gone before us,” carries a second meaning. These words stand as a promise that we too, when Christ returns, will have our own resurrection day into eternity. On the day of the great resurrection, when the trumpets sound, the dead in Christ will be raised, whole and holy, entering into the new heavens and the new earth, the fulfillment of the new creation that we experience now, but dimly.

But, don’t think that resurrection is just a future-tense event. It’s a present-tense reality. You are a baptized child of God. Note: present tense, are. Not were, not will be. Are. You are a baptized child of God. You notice the baptismal candle is lit this morning. In your Baptism, you are united with Christ. Think of the Easter power that has for you! “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.  For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Rom. 6:3-5). Today, you will hear people say, “Christ is risen” you will probably answer “He is risen indeed.” Today and tomorrow and the next day and every day, I want you to add something. I want you to say, “We are risen, we are risen indeed! Alleluia!”

Psalm 144:1 - Full of Eyes
Used with Permission of Artist

Let’s try it: We are risen! We are risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Now, here’s why that is important.

Twenty-six years ago, Easter was on April 23. I don’t have to look that up on an old calendar, or Google it. I know it; I remember it. I was in my last year at Seminary, about six weeks from graduation. Two weeks earlier, I had found out I would be the pastor at Grace Lutheran Church in Crockett, Texas, to be ordained and installed later in the summer. It was an exciting time with lots of things to look forward to in the months ahead.

Our dean of students had challenged us fourth-year men to preach in chapel. I accepted the challenge and was scheduled to preach the Tuesday after Easter, April 25. I was assigned the Old Testament lesson for that day, from Isaiah, where he writes, “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who proclaim Good News, who proclaim peace, who says unto Zion, ‘Behold, your God reigns.’” I connected Easter with Isaiah and with the future message that we would be proclaiming to our churches in just a few months. It was an experience that I hope I never forget, getting to preach in that magnificent Seminary chapel building to fellow students and teachers and mentors whom I admired and with whom I had spent years learning, growing, and struggling to learn this blessed vocation. After chapel, as I walked away, several friends and profs thanked me and complemented my sermon.

I was feeling quite good as I walked across campus when a friend came towards me, crying, tears running down his cheeks. His wife had recently had some health issues, and I was afraid he had just gotten bad news. In my mind, I was trying to figure out what to say to him when he blurted out, “Jon…I don’t know how to tell you this…Laura just called…your Dad died this morning.” I remember how time both stopped and sped up at the same time. Somewhere in there, Laura arrived. After hugging and crying together, we walked over to the Dean of Students office. As we sat down, he began to complement my sermon I had just preached, but then he noticed our faces. As he sat down, I told him about Dad. Truthfully, I remember almost nothing about the rest of our conversation. As we were wrapping up, he looked at me and said, “You preached a wonderful Easter message this morning and the hope we have because of Jesus’ death and resurrection.” He paused. Then, he said, “Now, you get to live out that Easter hope that you preached.”

I have thought about Dean Rockemann’s words more than once the last few weeks. I don’t need to tell you why. But it’s not just me. It’s us, as God’s people. It’s us, as the church. It’s us, the communion of saints, this side of heaven. We live in Easter hope every day, not just on high holy days like Easter, or at hard, difficult days like the death of a loved one. Even then, as we stand at the closed grave of our loved one, we do so with the promise of the day when that grave will be opened, and ours, too, when Jesus returns and voids all vault and casket warranties by raising us from the dead.

That day in his office, Dean Rockemann told me that I was to live out the hope that I preached. Now you, you, God’s people, you get to live out the hope that you have heard, living in Easter hope, today and every day as Baptized children of God.

Christ is risen. He is risen, indeed. Alleluia.
We are risen. We are risen, indeed. Alleluia.