A New Start

I love comparing the four stories of Easter morning that the Gospels give us. Each speaks of the discovery of the empty tomb, and each tells of the effect of this discovery on those who were there that morning. But then each of them adds some nuances that differ. Why are they different? There could be many reasons. Perhaps the tellers of the story omitted some details when they recounted it to the writers. Or maybe the writers wanted to add some stuff to make their point clearer or to emphasize something. We don't always know why they wrote what they wrote. All we can do is try to figure out what it means.

There are some aspects of Matthew's story that are so amazing. Matthew was a Michael Bay kind of director: big explosions going off all around the action. He’s got earthquakes on Friday and now this Sunday morning shake. He’s got angels, well, an angel showing up. But it’s not one of those nondescript, undercover angels. This one has a name tag or a spandex suit and cape rippling in the breeze. This angel’s got strobe lights and blaring trumpets. There are no “Is that an angel?” questions from the onlookers. The figure shows up, tosses away a multi-ton stone like it is a pebble easily skipped across a pond, and then strikes a pose on top of the rock, as if it is waiting for the reporter from Rolling Stone magazine to take the photo.

In case you are still wondering if this is a dramatic entrance, Matthew has the guards—big, tough, soldier types—pass out from fear. “Wow,” you say, “There’s no scrimping on the special effects budget on this one!” Matthew isn’t into subtlety. He doesn’t want you to miss anything.

And yet we do. They do. The women, who didn’t pass out like the big tough soldier guys did, get the message and run away with fear and great joy. I love that: fear and great joy. That sounds human. That sounds right for this incredible moment. It’s unsettling enough to be frightening, but wonderful enough to lead to hope.

Everyone seems to be missing something. And it is the shiny one who points this out: You're in the wrong place; you've got the wrong attitude; you're swimming with the wrong current. The current they were in was the logical one, the human one. A man was crucified. A man was buried. Ergo, that man was dead, and this was the end, the destination arrived. It was the end of the line. Everyone out. That makes perfect sense—unless you factor in Easter. Why are you seeking the living among the dead? That was what they asked the women who had come to the tomb. You are in the wrong place; you are making the wrong assumptions. He’s not here; he’s there. Where’s there? Home, where you live, right where you are, where you least expect him to be. You are missing what is right under your noses.

What was under their noses was a new start, a new beginning. It was nothing other than life itself—full, abundant, empowered life. That is what Christ came to offer us. He didn't come to give us the training regimen to get there. He didn't come to coerce us into becoming something better. He didn't come to drop some hints and then let us search through the clues to figure out what we are supposed to do and be. He came with a gift, and it is right there in front of us.

It is the gift of community. It is the gift of serving and caring. It is the gift of living in gratitude. It is the gift of hope. It is the gift of grace. We make things so hard. We want widescreen, can't miss it, knock-your-socks off experiences to convince us that we finally have found something of significance. What should knock our socks off is that there is someone who loves us even when we are unlovable, and we can experience this love through a community that embodies love in everything it does. It doesn’t get any more powerful than that.

Maybe that is what Jesus meant when he complained about those who were always seeking signs. “Show me something spectacular, Lord, and then I'll believe.” “Come on down from that cross, and then I'll believe.” He is asking us to live differently, to swim against the current, to be born anew. He is asking us to start all over again and to open our eyes to see what is there to see. When the smile of a loved one, when the music of the choir on Easter morning, when the smell of a flower, when the grace of a work of art, when an arm around our shoulders, when a lump in the throat, when a tear of joy traces down our cheeks - when these and a thousand more signs of life are right in front of us every moment of every day, all that we need to know is that He Is Risen, indeed. Then we’ll know what he so desperately wants us to know.

When we embrace the new start, we taste life differently. We experience joy differently because Easter has come, and we live in that new reality. So, join us at the starting line. The journey of living begins again with joy and hope. Happy Easter.

Rev. Dr. Derek Weber, Director of Preaching Ministries, served churches in Indiana, Arkansas, and the British Methodist Church. His PhD in preaching and media is from the University of Edinburgh. He has taught preaching in seminary and conference settings for more than twenty years.