Easter Sunday 11 AM
April 12, 2009
Isaiah 25: 6 – 9 and Mark 16: 1 - 8
Rejoicing in Salvation – Christopher H. Edmonston
Several years ago, we took our Youth group to
One of the oddities of the Christian life is that we are called to believe that just as Jesus Christ broke the power of the tomb, and just as Jesus levied a mighty blow against the terror of the cross, Jesus Christ might, where his will and our faith intersect, break the power of the powers that hold us.
Christianity does not ask us to live in the shadow of the cross, but in the fire of its creative action.[1] TEILHARD DE CHARDIN
No matter what you make you think of the story from Charlotte, where the woman claimed that Jesus healed her addiction, or at least gave her the strength to stand up with courage in the face of it, her claim was nothing short of this: that Jesus has lit for her the fire of creative action, and she was a new creation, no longer the slave to sin and shame and heroin, living in the fire of her faith.
I am reminded of a story that I read in Tony Campolo’s book “Let
Me Tell You A Story” – he writes – “I heard of a man who paraded up and down
the streets of
We are all fools for something. There is something that we following without regard to what others might think, or how others might judge. There is someone that we love, some blessing we claim, some interest we hold regardless of social norms or societal expectations. Like the football player who loves dance. Or the literature snob who is an ace at poker. Or the poet who is into kickboxing. There is something that we are foolish about, that inexplicably possesses us – the old boyfriend we cannot forget, the old boss we cannot forgive, the missed opportunity we cannot relive. The question is always, in the face of our devotion, do those things love us, our hobbies, our interests, our old partners, our old jobs, any of them, do those things ever love us back as much as we love them? The fool for Christ already knows what we should have known all along, those of us baptized as infants and raised within the arms of church – that Jesus is going to love us more than we can ever love him. It strikes me that too often we ascribe devotion to something based upon its capacity to entertain us – a football team, a basketball team, a celebrity, an author – when the highest aspirations of our faith call us to ascribe devotion not because of the ability or capacity to entertain but because of the willingness and ability to sacrifice courageously on our behalf.
Why do we love anything that cannot love us back? Why do we sacrifice for anything that is not willing to offer greater sacrifice in return?
Whose fools are we?
It was not human beings who accomplished
anything here [on the cross]; no, God alone did it. He came to human beings in
infinite love. He judged what is human. And he granted grace beyond any merit.[3] DIETRICH BONHOEFFER
On good Friday, I talked about the nature of Jesus’ love and the power of his devotion to God.
Most of us wouldn’t mind being Jesus – to a point. Who among us would not want to:
The scenario breaks down at the foot of the cross though. For as many takers of the powers of Jesus there is absent the number of takers in his death. I don’t know anyone who would go through that. WWJD? Those ubiquitous little bracelets asked several years ago – WWJD – well Jesus died. Would we? The cross is the dividing line between the pretenders and the savior. You cannot divorce the works from his death, and vice versa. In the cross Jesus had all the gravitas and all the grace the world would ever need. By his wounds we are healed and by his love we are given every second chance.
I wrote earlier this month about what I think Easter ultimately means. It means rejoicing in our salvation.
Rejoicing that Easter
rolls stones away. It gives an out from
stones of disgust and envy. Stones of
sin and shame. Stones of hopelessness
and death. Stones of hate and
judgment. It rolls them away. Just as the power of God rolls the stone away
from the front of the tomb, our stones, whatever weigh us down can be rolled
away.
And in place of the
stones that have long kept us trapped it gives us renewed spaces of trust and
celebration. Redemption and honor. Hopefulness and eternal life. Love and grace. Easter tells the world with a clarion call
that all of our lives -- our presents,
our pasts, our futures, yes, even our knowledge – are, by the power of God,
under the purview of grace and love.
That is Isaiah’s great vision of God’s power in his 25th chapter. “7 And he will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; 8 he will swallow up death forever. Then the Lord GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the LORD has spoken. 9 It will be said on that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us. This is the LORD for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”
Yes, that is a word that I think we can hang our lives upon – “This is the LORD for whom we have waited, let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”
What LORD are we waiting upon?
Easter is fantastic. It is illogical. It is never fully described in any place in the gospels – it is equal part mystery and faith; equal parts fact and testimony. Without it, we are wasting our time. But with it, mountains just might be moved. At the heart of every inspiration story of Christian faith – from the missionaries, to the pastors, to the men and women who sit in the pews week after week is a claim to the renewing power of God to change the world and shatter death itself.
[A woman] diagnosed with a terminal illness called on her pastor to plan her funeral. She had some ideas about what she hoped would happen, but she was insistent about one thing: "I want to be buried with a fork in my hand."Her incredulous pastor demanded an explanation. "Oh, it's quite simple," the woman said. "In all my years of attending church socials and potlucks, I always remember that, when they clear the dishes, someone will say, 'Keep your fork.' It's my favorite part, because I know something better is coming. So I want people to see me there in that coffin with a fork in my hand and know: 'Her best is still to come.' "[4] J. LORNE PEACHEY, The Mennonite
Easter morn reaffirms for all people of faith that the best is yet to come. And the faith calls us to rejoice in the salvation of our Lord.
Our Lord that does the illogical like leaping up out of a grave.
Our Lord that loves us more than we can ever love Him.
Our Lord that says hope in the face of despair, and forgiven in the face of judgment.
Our Lord Christ in whom we are called to rejoice because of the depth of his teaching, and the horror of his suffering, and the wonder of his resurrection. And standing in wonder of it all, we are called to rejoice in salvation. If there is better cause for rejoicing, I’ve yet to find it.
Thanks be to God for this Lord, this gift, this grace that breaks even death itself!
Amen!