Happy Lutheran

At dawn on that first Easter morning, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome went to the tomb with spices to anoint Jesus’ body. There was just one problem: an enormous stone was blocking their way. There was no way they were going to be able to roll away that stone, and they knew it, but they went anyway. And I find that amazing.

They had hope, they had faith, they had something that made them think, in spite of all the odds, in spite of all signs to the contrary, they would be able to walk into the tomb and do what they felt called to do: anoint Jesus’ body.  I find their faith, and their determination, inspiring. They were confident and believed in the power of God; the trusted in the possibility that God would make a way for them to do what they wanted to do, what they needed to do. And, sure enough, when they arrived at the tomb, the stone had indeed been rolled away. Thanks be to God, they were going to be able to go ahead with their plans.

But, when they entered the tomb, they were…what? Surprised, surely. Unsettled and confused, certainly. Shaken and disconcerted, most probably. Jesus’ body was not there: instead, there was an angel telling them that Jesus was not dead, but alive, and that they would see him again. “Go,” the angel said, “and proclaim this good news to the disciples.”  And they looked at one another, maybe murmured a little another under their breath, and together, they ran from the tomb in terror, saying nothing to anyone. Their courage and confidence changes to fear in the blink of an eye. Kind of an epic fail, right?

I don’t know about you, but I am sympathetic to these women, because I can relate. When I have a plan, when I have a clear sense of what God is calling me to do, I, too, can stride forward in confidence, trusting that God will roll away the stones blocking my path, making a way where there seems to be no way. However, when God surprises me, stops me in my tracks and calls an audible, revealing to me something entirely unexpected and calling me to do something radically new, my courage leaves me, and I run. My courage and confidence changes to fear in the blink of an eye. An epic fail, for sure.

This is the human story. This is the human condition.

And yet, the Easter promise is that our fears and our failures, our doubts and our despairs, do not change the facts: Christ is risen, and we have new life. Christ is with us, and abides with us forever.  The Holy Spirit dwells with us, and courage will come–even in the midst of our apprehensions and our misgivings. 

In our life with God, so often we move between these poles of confidence and fear, trust and doubt; getting it wrong as much as we get it right. But again, the good news of that Easter morning, and every Easter morning of our lives, is that the power of God to raise the dead, the power of God to create and re-create new community, the power of God to inspire, encourage, and embolden us is steadfast and sure, even when we don’t respond to it, even when we run from it.

Mary, Salome, and Mary–the faith of those women is amazing; they were faithful to Jesus until the end, and remained faithful even after his death. One moment of fear and doubt doesn’t change that fact–for them, or for us. Our God is a God of second, third and fourth chances, of persistent invitation, of open tombs. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, in the midst of all that keeps us from saying yes to God and hinders our faithful audacity, courage will come to do the new thing God is calling us to do–a new thing that surpasses our best plans, and suprises us with wonder, and new life.