Holy Week and Easter Sunday are now behind us. For most pastors, that typically means slipping into a coma for about a week. Unfortunately, I'm not able to do that this year. The symbolic dates that we put on a calendar to help remind us of what God has done for us through Christ, the cross, and the empty tomb are now past - but that does not mean that we do not continue to live in the midst of our own Good Fridays and need for Easter Morning each and every day.
We spend a lot of time in our lives (well, those of us who find the topic intriguing and of importance anyway) debating theological issues. Debating small points of scripture, asking questions about whether Jesus really said this, that or the other thing. Arguing over the jots and tittles, so to speak. Is it free well, election, predestination, or some combination of all the above? Why does the Bible contain the books it does? Why do we still have those same old traditional services? Why do we think we need drums and guitars to make worship meaningful? Why don't we have more chocolate donuts for the fellowship hour?
Important questions and topics to debate to be sure. But today, two days after Easter, as I prepare to help preside over the funeral service for a 24 year old member of our congregation, I find most of my debates, arguments, and theological nuances flying out the window in favor of one simple message: "For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his." (Romans 6:5)
Whatever arguments, questions, or debates we might have, there is one simple truth in this life: We will die. We will share in Jesus' death whether we choose to or not. We all will have our Good Friday. Our dark hour. A path each and everyone one of us will travel down. We don't know usually know when, we rarely know how.
In the midst of grief and sorrow at the loss of a loved one, whatever debates and theological squabbles we might have with one another within the Christian community seem to melt away as we cling to the Easter promise in the face of death.
We know already that we share in Christ's death - clinging to the promise that we will also share in his resurrection. "He is risen!" is more than a Facebook posting for people to "like," it is the very essence of the Christian faith. The promise of new life, the promise of resurrection, of the old passing away, the new being ushered in. It is more than Easter egg hunts and chocolate bunnies. The empty tomb means something. No... I take that back. It means EVERYTHING. Christ's tomb is empty - a prelude to the promise that our tombs will one day be empty as well.
We walk together during this life, sharing in joys and sorrows - making mistakes, living in the midst of broken relationships, spending too much time arguing and fighting over things that ultimately will never matter. Worrying and stressing about what tomorrow will bring. I'm guilty. I know. I do this as much, if not more, than many people. I have my fair share of things that stress me out and make life less enjoyable than it should be. Which is precisely why hearing and knowing that this will all one day pass away is a lovely promise that I look forward to.
Today, however, my theological arguments lie in one simple, basic promise: "Because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved." (Ephesians 2:4-5)
Faith does not mean there is no grief when a loved one dies - it simply means we do not grieve without hope. Comfort comes not in a question of whether the individual believed or behaved exactly the right way - but rather in God's magnanimous love for sinners and saints alike, that wipes away the mistakes and sins of the past, replacing them with a new creation prepared for the Kingdom of God.
To live as Easter people is to live knowing God has another word to speak, that his power extends beyond the grave. That God has something to say about death - and that death is not the final word. That there is a word of life that not only breaks in on our present, but gives us hope and certainty of new life for the future.
For Christ is Risen... He is Risen INDEED!
We spend a lot of time in our lives (well, those of us who find the topic intriguing and of importance anyway) debating theological issues. Debating small points of scripture, asking questions about whether Jesus really said this, that or the other thing. Arguing over the jots and tittles, so to speak. Is it free well, election, predestination, or some combination of all the above? Why does the Bible contain the books it does? Why do we still have those same old traditional services? Why do we think we need drums and guitars to make worship meaningful? Why don't we have more chocolate donuts for the fellowship hour?
Important questions and topics to debate to be sure. But today, two days after Easter, as I prepare to help preside over the funeral service for a 24 year old member of our congregation, I find most of my debates, arguments, and theological nuances flying out the window in favor of one simple message: "For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his." (Romans 6:5)
Whatever arguments, questions, or debates we might have, there is one simple truth in this life: We will die. We will share in Jesus' death whether we choose to or not. We all will have our Good Friday. Our dark hour. A path each and everyone one of us will travel down. We don't know usually know when, we rarely know how.
In the midst of grief and sorrow at the loss of a loved one, whatever debates and theological squabbles we might have with one another within the Christian community seem to melt away as we cling to the Easter promise in the face of death.
We know already that we share in Christ's death - clinging to the promise that we will also share in his resurrection. "He is risen!" is more than a Facebook posting for people to "like," it is the very essence of the Christian faith. The promise of new life, the promise of resurrection, of the old passing away, the new being ushered in. It is more than Easter egg hunts and chocolate bunnies. The empty tomb means something. No... I take that back. It means EVERYTHING. Christ's tomb is empty - a prelude to the promise that our tombs will one day be empty as well.
We walk together during this life, sharing in joys and sorrows - making mistakes, living in the midst of broken relationships, spending too much time arguing and fighting over things that ultimately will never matter. Worrying and stressing about what tomorrow will bring. I'm guilty. I know. I do this as much, if not more, than many people. I have my fair share of things that stress me out and make life less enjoyable than it should be. Which is precisely why hearing and knowing that this will all one day pass away is a lovely promise that I look forward to.
Today, however, my theological arguments lie in one simple, basic promise: "Because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved." (Ephesians 2:4-5)
Faith does not mean there is no grief when a loved one dies - it simply means we do not grieve without hope. Comfort comes not in a question of whether the individual believed or behaved exactly the right way - but rather in God's magnanimous love for sinners and saints alike, that wipes away the mistakes and sins of the past, replacing them with a new creation prepared for the Kingdom of God.
To live as Easter people is to live knowing God has another word to speak, that his power extends beyond the grave. That God has something to say about death - and that death is not the final word. That there is a word of life that not only breaks in on our present, but gives us hope and certainty of new life for the future.
For Christ is Risen... He is Risen INDEED!
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