In Matthew’s gospel, we are told that on the first day of the week toward the dawn, “There was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it.” (Matthew 28:2)
As I was reading this, it reminded me of the earthquake we in the Province just had. Remember the time when you had to run out of the building or look for a sturdy table so you can get under it when the building started shaking? Remember the time when after the earthquake, a lot of people went up to Valencia as there were rumors there was a tsunami? Remember the time when just a little movement, fear would come back to you?
Because of that earthquake, it changed our lives. It changed our outlook.
So with that earthquake on the dawn of the first day of the week after Jesus died, it forever changed how we look at things.
As what that old song said, “What a difference a day makes/24 little hours brought the sun and flowers where it used to be rain.” From darkness there was light, from disappointment, there was hope.
As we celebrate the resurrection, many of us in our private and deepest place of our heart are asking, “Is there any word from the Lord for me today?”
There are those of you who are afflicted with sickness or disease for which the field of medicine has no known cure, they just treat the symptoms; for some of you, young couples wanting to have children but so far, you rock an empty cradle; for married people struggling to keep the relationship together and their home happy; for the few who are struggling with inappropriate lifestyles, morals, and addictions; for some who want to work, but find no jobs; for others who are struggling against the power of failure, disappointment, roadblocks, detours, dead-end streets, no matter where they turn, it seems to be the wrong way and a poor choice, we are praying that this Easter can bring some good news for us.
Like the early disciples between the time of the arrest of Jesus and the placing of his body in a borrowed tomb, they must have asked, “How do we believe and sing when there is no music or joy in our soul?”
My task is not to give an academic answer to the question of whether or not the resurrection really happened. You can read far better arguments than I could ever write. However, the scriptures and my experience tell me:
The day of the resurrection makes a difference because it declares that God always has the last word.
The last thing Mary expected when she went to the tomb that first Easter morning was to find the tomb empty. She expected to find a gray, lifeless corpse bound by some cloth and beginning to decay. She just wanted to anoint the corpse because of her great love. But then, surprise!
Even Peter and the other disciple who had been with Jesus from the beginning of his ministry were not prepared for what they found that morning. After they found the tomb empty, they were mystified.
The followers of Jesus sat in dejected wonder as the sun set, and the Sabbath began. In light of the prophecies which Jesus had fulfilled, in light of the promises he made, his death on the cross made no sense. He was their Messiah. His followers fully expected he would become their king, and that Israel would again be prosperous and free.
But less than a week later, after riding into Jerusalem with shouts of Hosannas, as the sun fell behind the horizon toward the end of an unforgettable week, the Son of God hung cold and lifeless on a Roman cross just outside the city walls.
Not only had Jesus failed to improve Israel, but the nation’s future seemed even bleaker than before. Discouragement and desperation reigned supreme.
Perhaps you can identify with the pain of Jesus’ followers. Perhaps you have experienced the death of a dream, or had the bridge to your ideal future crumble beneath your feet. Maybe you are suffering that difficult, disillusioning situation right now.
However, the story of the resurrection tells us that in the midst of our despair, Christ comes not like Superman to right all the wrongs, but rather as a strengthening presence that opens our eyes, and lets us glimpse at life from a different perspective.
The living Christ lets us see the possibilities in the midst of our problems, and reminds us, “Though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.”
Easter is God’s reminder to the world that it is not the forces of evil, but rather the Lord God omnipotent who reigns supreme.
When we come to some deadend in life, we look over the brink into the dark abyss and, to our surprise and delight, there he is, awaiting us. We give up, give in to despair, and find him near to us.
A student was asked to summarize the entire gospel in a few words, responded: “In the Bible, it gets dark, then it gets very, very dark, then Jesus shows up.”
In times when we think there is a black cloud hovering over us, the risen Christ appears before us, finds us, grabs us, embraces us, and holds us.
Secondly, one of the differences Easter makes is that our lives are turned around once we encounter the risen Christ. The real power of Easter is the way that people’s lives are moved from death to life, from sealed tomb to open doorway, from despair to hope, from the old ways to new opportunities. That is resurrection.
Having been a pastor for more than 40 years, I have seen the God of resurrection at work. I have seen the risen Christ raise people from the death of despair to the joy of new life.
A pastor friend shared this story with us during a seminar. Right after graduation from the seminary, he was assigned in the middle of a New York City ghetto, and was told by the Mission Board that he was the representative of Jesus to these people. He was terrified.
In the first week, he witnessed the buying and selling of drugs on the streets; he fed barefoot, unwashed alcoholics; served soup and sandwiches in a dilapidated city park; and he had a conversation with a “retired” prostitute who told him exactly what he could do with his Jesus. He did not think that Jesus was anywhere to be found on those streets. How could he represent someone who was not even there?
But then, something happened. After the soup and sandwich meal in that little mission, they always sang. Someone always requested the old gospel hymn, “The Old Rugged Cross.” It was not one of his favorites, but a college student working with him could play it pretty well on her guitar, so they always sang it.
He had been in the city for about a month when he first noticed it. As they started the first chorus of “The Old Rugged Cross,” the glazed look in the eyes of the tattered people who had come to eat a bowl of soup and be warm for an hour began to change. The hardened lines in their foreheads began to soften. By the time they got to the last line, “I will cherish the old rugged cross, And exchange it some day for a crown,” the expressions had changed. Where once bitterness, pain and resentment had been etched on their faces, peace, for just a minute reigned. That, this young pastor discovered, was the power of Jesus.
When his unlikely collection of parishioners left the mission center, the glazed eyes returned, the lines on their foreheads hardened once more, they returned to hard lives.
But this pastor had to believe that what he saw in their faces during that hour was no insignificant thing. Somehow their lives were changed in that hour. The following week, he thought, they would need to be changed again, but it was OK because he was certain Jesus would always be there.
No matter how bad things got, Jesus would be there — not as a miracle cure or a mysterious force that would eradicate drugs, poverty and hopelessness — but as a constant presence in the midst of suffering, a joyful friend in times of celebration, the power in the midst of powerlessness, the only one who, in that particular context, could save those people. And, that pastor noted, that same Christ could save him, too.
When we went to visit some churches here in the Province that were destroyed by the earthquake, we went to a town where the church building was totally damaged. But just a few meters from the church, the people built a temporary place with roof made of tarpaulin and nipa. There were no walls; just some pews and a table. I could just imagine on Sunday mornings, when they sing their hymns, listen to the scriptures, and the sermon, say their prayers, they could also see the rubbles of their sanctuary that was destroyed.
As I was looking at this scene, it was, for me, a symbol of resurrection.
In the midst of devastation, there is this fellowship of believers who continue to worship because they believe in the risen Christ who has the last word. And as I listened to their stories of hope, I saw the resurrected Christ. As I listened to their dreams for the Church, I saw the resurrected Christ. As I looked at their faces with faith that everything will be okay, I saw the resurrected Christ.
As I gave out to the pastors and members of this church our meager financial help and saw their smiling faces, they ministered to me instead. They helped me see what the resurrected Christ can do in our lives and in our churches even in the midst of devastation or conflict.
My friends, I do not know where you are in your life’s journey today. But the next time you feel there is no music in your soul, the next time you don’t feel like singing, the next time you feel there are only sunsets, remember the difference Easter can make in your life.
God has the last move and word. We are not victims but victors. God’s presence is with us in all things. And let all the people of God say, “Halleluiah! Christ is risen!”
