Test Driving Theology

Grace and peace to you from God our Creator, and from Jesus Christ, whose resurrection shook the world! Amen.

Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!

There is just something about Easter morning, isn’t there?

You can feel it before worship even starts.

There is anticipation. People show up a little earlier. The sanctuary looks brighter. Janean has the organ cranked up all the way to “11,”, and the music has a little more bounce to it. Somebody is wearing a color they only wear once a year. The flowers are everywhere. The kids are a little wiggly. The adults are pretending they are not. (But you are!  I see you back there!) And somewhere, someone has already eaten a chocolate bunny before breakfast and feels absolutely no regret. (No judgment here!)

Easter joy does not arrive quietly. It bursts through. And that is exactly what the Gospel of Matthew gives us today.

Matthew does not tell the resurrection story like a calm sunrise with soft background music. No. Matthew gives us a literal earthquake. An angel. Guards shaking with fear. Women running from the tomb in a mixture of terror and joy. And then, right there on the road, Jesus himself, alive, standing before them.

This is not subtle. This is resurrection. This is light bursting through.

And honestly, that is good news, because most of us do not need just a tiny little sliver of hope. We need more than that—especially this year.

• We need hope that can break in.
• We need joy that can interrupt fear.
• We need life that can push back death.

This year, we need Easter.

The women come to the tomb early, while the grief is still fresh.

They are not coming with resurrection confidence. They are not saying, “You know, I have a really good feeling about this.”

No. They come because someone they loved has died. And this is what you do. You show up. You carry sorrow. You take the next step, even when you have no idea where that next step may take you.

And that matters, because a lot of us arrive at Easter exactly that way.

• Today, some of us come full of joy.
• Some of us come exhausted.
• Some come carrying grief that has not let up.
• Some come worried about family, health, work, or the state of the world.
• Some come because Easter is one of those holy habits.
• Some come feeling bright.
• Some come feeling like they are making their way through the dark.

And however we come, Easter meets us right here. That is the beautiful thing. The women arrive expecting to find only death. Instead, they discover that God has already been there ahead of them.

One of the deep truths of the Christian life is that we often show up assuming the stone is still in place, only to find that God has already been at work long before we got there.

Isn’t that true?

We brace ourselves for the worst. We rehearse the hard conversation in our minds. We assume the burden will be too much, the future too uncertain, the loss too great.

And then, somehow, God meets us there.  God shows up. 

Maybe it’s when a friend says exactly the right thing. Or when strength appears that we did not know we had. Or perhaps it’s a new beginning that rises out of a season we thought was only ending.

However it happens, we discover that the stone is not where we left it.

Now, that doesn’t mean life is easy. Not at all.  But it does mean death and shadow do not get the last word.

On Tuesday, the Artemis II spacecraft launched, carrying four astronauts to orbit the Moon.  This is the first time humans have returned to the moon since I was seven years old. I have a certain amount of nerd factor in my psyche…so I will admit to paying attention.   

A good friend of mine, Paul, is a pastor at a Lutheran church in Cocoa Beach, Florida, just 20 miles down the coast from the Kennedy Space Center.  He has several members of his congregation who work at NASA.  On Tuesday, one of them got him special access to a viewing spot just six miles from the launch pad to watch the liftoff.  It’s where NASA employees can go to watch.

When Paul was describing it to me, he used words like “amazing”…and “powerful”…and “hard to describe.”  He said that when the engines ignited, the sound was like nothing he’d ever heard before.  So, so loud.  He said the sound hit them like waves of pressure…the kind of loud that you can feel in your sternum.  And the engines’ flame was so intense.  So bright. He said it was like the light, and the sound, burst out from the launch site.

That is exactly the feeling Matthew gives us in today’s Gospel.

You see, resurrection is glorious…but messy! It shakes the ground. It startles people. It puts laughter back into voices that had forgotten how to use it.

And that is why I love one little phrase in this story:  The women leave the tomb, Matthew says, “with fear and great joy.”

What an honest phrase. The don’t leave with perfect confidence, or with total understanding. 

No, they run for home with fear and great joy.  These two things…at the same time. That sounds a lot more like real faith.

Because faith is not always calm and collected, sometimes faith is running down the road with your heart pounding, not entirely sure what just happened, but knowing that everything has changed.

Maybe you have had moments like that.

A diagnosis that turned out better than expected. Or a relationship that started healing after a long silence. Or a door opening when you were sure it had closed. Or a surprising peace in the middle of sorrow.

Like those women at the tomb, you are still catching your breath, but joy has already started to rise.

That is Easter faith.

And then, as if the morning were not already overwhelming enough, Jesus meets these women on the road and says, “Greetings!”

I love that.

The women have just lived through an earthquake, an angel, and the shock of an empty tomb, and Jesus sounds almost casual.

“Greetings!”

The women fall at his feet, and Jesus says again, “Do not be afraid.” That may be the Easter word we most need to hear.

Do not be afraid.

Not because nothing in life is frightening; there is plenty. And not because grief is not real; it is. And not because the world is suddenly simple; because it is most definitely not.

• But do not be afraid because Jesus Christ is alive.
• Do not be afraid because death has been defeated.
• Do not be afraid because the love of God is stronger than the worst thing you can imagine.

And do not be afraid because resurrection has begun, and it is not stopping at one empty tomb.

It is moving outward into the world like a pressure wave. Into the church, into human hearts, and into lives buried under sorrow or regret.

The light and sound of resurrection burst out from the empty tomb.

And that means Easter is not just something that brings comfort. It is a calling for us too.

The risen Christ does not step out of the tomb so we can admire a miracle from a safe distance. He rises to gather people close. He rises to send witnesses. He rises to announce forgiveness, hope, and new life for the whole world.

Which means we are called to be resurrection people.  And it means that the powerful light and sound of resurrection will burst out from here…from this room…to wherever we take it.

We are called to bring light into places of shadow.  We are called to practice hope in a cynical world.  We are called to forgive, to encourage, and to keep showing up for people who are hurting. And we are called to believe that no person is beyond grace and no situation is beyond God’s power to bring new life.

This is why we sing on Easter.  This is why we decorate the sanctuary, and why we laugh a little more easily today.  And this is why even people carrying deep sorrow can still show up and dare to hope.

Because Easter joy is not denying what’s going on in the world around us.

It is defying it.  Celebrating Easter is an act of defiance.  

• Easter defies shadow and death.
• Easter defies cynicism, and anger, and all the things the separate us.
• Easter tells us the tomb is empty.
• Easter says Jesus is alive.
• Easter says love gets the last word.

Easter is the stubborn conviction that God has acted in Jesus Christ and that nothing will ever be the same again.

• So, if you came here today full of joy, Easter says yes! Sing loudly. 
• If you came weary, Easter says, come anyway. The light is still for you. 
• If you came grieving, Easter says death does not win. 
• And if you came wondering whether hope can really break through in your life, Easter says look again. The stone has been rolled away.

So let the alleluias ring. Let the flowers bloom. Let the children (and a few of you adults) wiggle. Let the choir sing. Let your heart be lifted.

Because Christ is risen, Christ is risen indeed!  Let that Word burst from here like a pressure wave. Let the earth shake.  Let hearts be changed.  And the world…the world will never be the same.

Amen.