A Story of Resurrection

Allelujah, Jesus is Risen!

Matthew Myer Bolton, and the brilliant creatives over at the Salt Project, reminded me this week that there are at least two ways to miss a miracle. First, you can dismiss it, and reject it outright, as if astonishing and amazing things never happen. But second, the second way to miss a miracle is to domesticate it, to accept it too readily, as if it isn’t astonishing at all.

A couple of weeks back, I was chatting with someone before worship about some possible upcoming dental work he may need. And in an attempt to be funny and find a silver lining, I joked with him about the movie Castaway and that horrific scene where Tom Hanks had to extract his own tooth. Remember that one? Well, what I was really talking about was the miracle of pain meds and modern science. No one likes going to the dentist of course, but how quickly we’ve forgotten the miracle of novocaine and other pain medications.

A trip to the dentist today is like a walk in the park compared to the horror show it was only a generation or two ago, right? We miss the miracle of modern science because we’ve grown so accustomed to it. We can’t even imagine a world without it.

And so, my friends, it must be said that what we celebrate this morning is indeed, truly, a miracle. We should not get too comfortable with the extraordinary events of Easter less they lose their meaning. 

God’s presence with us in Jesus, and his resurrection is nothing short of the greatest story ever told… and more than that, its impact remains transformational. Its impact remains transformational because Jesus didn’t defeat death by simply eliminating it. Jesus didn’t dodge death and promise us likewise a life going forward without suffering. Jesus defeated death and the grave by bringing new life into the world through it. By creating something new and wonderful on the other side of something terrible. 

In fact, that's why the cross is such a perfect symbol for the followers of Jesus – because before Jesus, the cross was a tremendously effective symbol of Roman Imperial power. Like a gun or or a noose, the cross represented Rome’s power and its willingness to kill, to take your very life away from you. It was a reminder to the people of their place at the Emperor's feet, and the power that the Empire held over them. 

Death was the ultimate threat, it IS the ultimate threat, the tool, the means through which earthly Kings enact their power. And Jesus did not defeat these death-dealing powers through retributive violence, by simply commanding a larger army or wielding a bigger weapon. He did not threaten to reign hell down upon his enemies and lie that their destruction would be to the glory of God.

Jesus defeated the power of death through sacrifice, by enduring the worst this world has to offer in order to resurrect something new and beautiful through it. And because of this, because of Jesus, the cross is no longer a symbol of death – but a symbol of the kind of beautiful new life that can spring up through sacrifice, on the other side of something terrible.

The gospel of Matthew certainly doesn’t fall victim to this second way that you can miss a miracle – Matthew never domesticates the miracle of the resurrection. The author describes both the guards and the earth itself shaking in response to the events of the day. The power of resurrection and the love of this Jesus movement can shake the very foundations of the earth itself. 

You know, in today’s text, after the stone was rolled back, but before the angel encouraged the women to go and tell the rest of the disciples that Jesus was risen… the angel invited them to come and see the place where Jesus lay before his resurrection. 

It was an invitation not just to confirm that Jesus’ body was indeed gone – but also to reflect on and acknowledge that his lifeless body had been there in the first place. Jesus died. Truly died. For the last three days, his body lay in the tomb. And the blessings of God’s forgiveness, and peace, and reconciliation that erupted from the tomb on Easter morning all blossomed from that terrible place of death, the place where his battered body lay.

So, you may be asking, why am I so focused on Jesus’ death this morning? It’s Easter, afterall, didn’t we do all that death stuff on Friday? Well, yes, we did, but when we use Easter to erase Jesus’ death, to only celebrate, to only wear pastel colors and eat chocolate and sing and praise God, we miss the opportunity to see resurrection, to see God’s power enacted again and again and again in our lives and our world today. 

Because the beauty and power of God’s love are found, most often, not in shiny happy places surrounded by shouts of joy and celebration. You can find resurrection joy anywhere, I truly believe that, but if I were to go out looking for it, I wouldn’t start in an amusement park, or at a party… I’d go where people are grieving. Like the women on Easter morning, I’d follow the angel into the tomb and start by looking where Jesus’ body lay. The power of God’s work bringing new life into the world is quite often hidden beneath the shadows of pain and suffering and sadness and death.

And so this morning, I want to share with you a story of resurrection. And like the angel who invited the women into the tomb, this story begins with a glimpse of tragedy and loss. 

Now, I must admit that this is a story that I stole outright from a good friend, who had an open heart and eyes to see. And he saw the beauty and power of resurrection in the aftermath of a great tragedy within his community. Many of you may have heard about the horrific death of Sheridan Gorman, the young Loyola University student who was shot and killed last month just a few miles from where we sit this morning.

I cannot imagine the grief and pain and anger and confusion her family must be feeling – to lose a child so suddenly, and so publicly just as her life was beginning. 

The Gormans would have every right to be furious. To lash out. To seek their pound of flesh in response to their loss. To let their anger and pain manifest and fester in the community as fear and hate. But instead, the family responded with grace. And they released a statement to the Loyola community, in which they said:

"Sheridan chose Loyola because she felt at home there. She was happy, she was thriving, and she felt safe in that community. We do not want fear to take hold where it doesn't belong. Loyola is a place where young people grow, build friendships, and pursue their futures — just as Sheridan was doing."

From the depths of their heartache and pain, Sheridan’s family, through their statement, helped the Loyola community come together and strengthen their identity as a place where young people can grow, and thrive, find support, and love one another. 

Just like God in Christ transformed the cross – a symbol of imperial power and violence into the ultimate symbol of love and mercy – through their tears and grief, Sheridan’s family allowed God to transform this tragic event into something beautiful. They invited the community to come and see the place where Sheridan lay, and then be transformed by resurrection. To come together in love and support, rather than lash out in fear and anger.

You know, as Christians, we call ourselves resurrection people, and yet sometimes I think we have become a little too comfortable with the miracle, too accustomed to what that really means. To be a resurrection people doesn’t mean that we simply rest on our faith in what happened once, two thousand years ago. It means that we trust in God’s power to transform the worst that this world has to offer into something beautiful, into new life.

Resurrection doesn’t come easy. In the greatest story ever told, we learn that new life and reconciliation springs up from God’s sacrificial movement through death. 

And if we have eyes to see, we too can catch glimpses of God’s power to create new life in our world today. From extreme examples like the grace of Sheridan Gorman’s family, to everyday occurrences when someone sacrifices their sense of entitlement to anger, their right to retribution, and their tendency to succumb to fear. 

Resurrection blooms when we respond to the pain that this world inflicts upon us with grace instead. When we call off our armies of anger and lay down our swords of retribution.

God can enact resurrection in our lives, our relationships, and our community every single day if we’re willing to follow Christ to the cross and bear the burden of this world’s cruelty. When we say that we are a resurrection people, when we follow Christ’s call to the cross, what we are actually saying is that we trust in God’s power to transform even the very worst that this world can throw at us. We are saying that we trust God’s promise to bring new life out of death. 

We are gathered here today because we are a resurrection people, and we trust in God’s power to bring new life out of death. Don’t miss the miracle of God’s ongoing transformation of this world and our own hearts through the power of Christ Jesus revealed on this most joyous of days. Allelujah, Jesus is Risen. Amen.