God's Greatest Promise: A New Creation

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.” Matthew 28:1-10 (NRSV).

They’d been there that afternoon when Jesus died. The two Mary’s. Mary from Magdala, known as Mary Magdalene. And another Mary, mother of James and Joseph. Standing with the other women a distance away from the cross. 

They’d followed Jesus from Galilee, these two women. Like many others, they’d traveled the 80 mile distance to Jerusalem. Not really that far for us. But, for them, it felt like a world away.

They’d been there that afternoon at the cross. Watching. As the Jesus they loved was mocked and beaten by the soldiers. As the twelve scattered. Yet, they, and the other women had remained. Standing a distance away. Watching. As the day grew darker and darker.

They’d been there that afternoon as the earth shook. At that very moment when Jesus died. They’d felt the earthquake. Heard rocks split in two. Later, they heard that the temple curtain - the curtain that covered the holiest place in the temple, the place where only the priests were allowed. They heard that the curtain had torn in two. From top to bottom. As the earth shook. As Jesus died.

They’d been there as Jesus’ body had been taken down from the cross. Placed by Simon in his own new tomb. Simon, one of the many disciples like they. But, one who had wealth and could afford this one gesture of respect and dignity for Jesus. Who had suffered so much. And who had been treated so poorly. Humiliated. Shamed. Even crucified.

As Simon placed Jesus’ body in the tomb, they’d been there, too. The two Mary’s. Sitting opposite the tomb. Watching.

Early on the day after the Sabbath had passed. On the first day of the work week, they’d gone back to the tomb. The two Mary’s. Perhaps they wondered if it was really true. Really true that Jesus had died. That he was gone forever. Or, maybe, it was all just part of some nightmare. Some horrific dream from which they prayed they would wake up.

Or, perhaps, that early morning, as the two Mary’s were watching the tomb. Perhaps there was just a little bit of hope. Hope that Jesus’ own prediction would come true. That he would be raised from the dead after three days. Just as he said.

And, then, suddenly they felt another great earthquake. Just as they’d felt that afternoon at the cross. As the earth shook beneath them, they looked up and saw, of all things, an angel. Blinding them. Dressed in white. The guards who’d been stationed at the tomb - the soldiers who had been placed there by the religious authorities to ensure that Jesus’ disciples wouldn’t be able to steal his body and then proclaim that Jesus had risen. These guards, some of whom had mocked Jesus on the cross, they, too, shook. Like the earth. And then, in the greatest of ironies, they appeared to be dead. Just as Jesus was dead. And lifeless.

Except. Jesus wasn’t dead.

That was the earth-shattering news for these two Mary’s. Two women who, like the other women and like so many of Jesus’ disciples, were people with no power in their world. People with no money. Or no status. Just ordinary, everyday people. Hard-working people who felt left behind. It was easy for them to be cynical. To not expect or believe that Jesus’ resurrection prediction would come true. So, one can only wonder when they heard the news proclaimed by this dazzling angel, how much it rocked their world.  

There’s another character in this drama. Another unseen, unnamed character. Beyond the two Mary’s. And the angel. Beyond the guards and even Jesus himself, there is one more character woven into this first Easter story. We first met this character on Good Friday. As Jesus died, the whole earth shaked. The rocks split. This same character returned that early Sunday morning with another literal earth-shaking bang. This character? Creation.

We know, according to scripture, that since the fall of humanity and the entrance of sin and brokenness into God’s perfect and idyllic world, creation has groaned under its weight. Dominated by humankind, instead of lovingly cared for as God desired. Perhaps Creation is like the two Mary’s, just a little hopeful and longing for this very moment. For the news of Jesus’ resurrection. For the in-breaking of God’s kingdom into the world. And so, just like the women and the guards, when creation hears the news, it, too, responds. With an earthquake. A natural phenomenon that emphatically underscores the truly world-changing aspect of the resurrection of Jesus.

It’s easy to be for us cynical, isn’t it? Or without hope. To feel like the two Mary’s. Or, perhaps, even as creation might feel. To struggle under the weight of sin and brokenness. Whether it is our own sin and brokenness or that of the world. We look at the world and wonder how things can possibly get worse. Whether it is the divisiveness and discord in our public dialogue, or in our personal lives. Whether it is the inequality and unfairness that we experience. When even creation seems under seige and dying. When everything seems so hopeless. And it feels like death has the upper hand. It’s easy for us to be cynical, isn’t it? 

It is then that we, with the two Mary’s, with the angel, with the guards and with all of creation witness God’s answer. We see and feel and hear God’s response. God would not allow Jesus to remain dead. Jesus was resurrected. Jesus lives. 

Now, Jesus’ resurrection does not mean that God condones human sin and brokenness. It does not mean that God ignores the violence and destruction that we have perpetuated against God’s very creation. But what it does show us is that God submits to it, absorbs it, and lives through it to be in solidarity with all that suffer through it. 

And then, God resurrects the condemned one, the betrayed one, the crucified one to show that this act of violence perpetrated against Jesus is not the last word. Out of this death and darkness, God brings about a new creation. Death does not win! Life wins! God wins!

There’s one more piece - one more important piece - to the story. After the two Mary’s heard the news and the angel’s instructions, they left quickly to go. And to tell. And, as they did along the way, their world was rocked a second time as they met Jesus himself. They fell at his feet. And they worshipped him. And then, with his words “Do not be afraid” ringing in their ears, they continued on. To tell the others. So that the other disciples could also meet Jesus. Alive.

May this be our response to God’s greatest act. To the fulfillment of God’s greatest promise. May we meet Jesus on the way, too. May we also fall down at Jesus’ feet and worship him. May Jesus make us into a new creation. And, then, may we get up and go out into our world. Into a world that has grown cynical and that groans under the weight of sin. And may we, like the two Mary’s and like all of creation, share the earth-shattering news in our words and in our actions, so that others, too, may meet Jesus. Alive. In us.


Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen.

Preached April 21, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
First Sunday of Easter
Readings: Matthew 28:1-10; Psalm 118:19-34

Drumstick Ice Cream Cones

John 20:19-31 (NRSV). When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.


Welcome to this Sunday, April 3rd, only 2 days after April Fool's Day. One day isn't enough, is it? For me, one day of jokes just isn't enough. You see, in my family, we didn't celebrate just one day. I come from a family of people who love to laugh and play practical jokes on each other.  So, that first day of April often dragged into three, frequently a week and, sometimes, up to a full month.  One of us would play a joke on another which led to the need to reciprocate and on and on and on.

So, today it just seemed right to play an April Fool’s joke on you.  It also seemed right because, in my home parish in Pasadena, this Sunday, the Second Sunday of Easter is always celebrated as Holy Hilarity Sunday.  A Sunday where we are invited to bring jokes -- respectful jokes, of course -- to share, and to laugh with each other.

Celebrating laughter on this second Easter Sunday is actually a long and very rich tradition in the church.  There is much history of congregations celebrating this day, sharing jokes and fun stories and engaging in pranks on each other.  The tradition comes from some of the church’s early theologians, where they reflected on Jesus’ resurrection from the dead as a huge practical joke that God played on Satan.   They called it the risus paschalis, meaning the Easter laugh. 

And, so, it seems very appropriate today for us to laugh.  For us to celebrate the joy of Easter in a fun way the week after we’ve celebrated it in a glorious way.  To mix faith and humor and to stir both deeply into our lives so that we might live more fully into being and sharing ourselves as people of the resurrection.

I think God must have an amazing sense of humor.  After all, look at the characters, in the Bible and here in this congregation, who God has gathered together as his people.  From those in the Hebrew scripture, to the disciples of Jesus, to us here today, God has a way of finding very imperfect people and forming and shaping all of us into people very well-suited to do the Church’s work--the work of sharing the good news of that Easter resurrection.

Notice that I used the word “imperfect.”  Often, I think that we get this notion in our heads that, in order to share the Gospel, you must have led a perfect life.  That, to be called, one must have lived in a way that is completely faithful and above reproach.  Well, I, for one, know better than that.  And all one needs to do to further disprove that theory is to look at the characters--the imperfect characters--in our reading today.

Let’s look at the disciples.  That first Easter morning, we know that Mary, after discovering that the gardener was, in fact, Jesus, runs back to the disciples and announces to them that she had seen the Lord.  And, then, proceeded to share with them everything Jesus had said.   

And, their response?  Well, they hid!  They went behind closed doors and hid because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities.  Why?  The story doesn’t say.  Perhaps they thought they might be accused of stealing Jesus’ body so they could start rumors of his resurrection.  Or perhaps they were afraid to rejoice publicly--to show joy over Jesus’ resurrection and incur the wrath of the authorities.  Whatever it was, they were afraid and they hid.  And, my guess was that, as they hid away, there was not much laughing.  Until, of course, Jesus appeared and showed them the marks of his resurrection.  Only then were they filled with joy.  Only then did they actually come of out of their own tomb of fear and truly enter into the resurrection.

And, then, there’s Thomas.  Oh, poor Thomas.  You see, I kind of get Thomas.  He was the realistic one, wasn’t he?  He was evidence-driven.  He wanted proof.  He wanted facts.  "Prove it to me."  (Aren’t we all a little bit like him?  How do I know God exists?  Why would God allow something like that to happen?  We are always looking for the proof, for the facts, for the answers.) And, then, just like with the disciples, Jesus appears.  And tells Thomas to put his finger in his hands and his hands into his side.  Here, Thomas!  Here’s your proof!  

And Thomas, without even having to put his fingers into the nail holes or into the sword slice in Jesus’ side--without touching the actual proof, he gets it.  He gets Jesus’ resurrection and immediately confesses, “My Lord and my God!”  Out of his tomb of doubt and into the resurrection.

Aren’t we so like Thomas and the rest of the disciples?  You see, I think sometimes the immensity of the resurrection is way too much for us to fully grasp.  That it’s way too big for us to truly understand.  And so, piece by piece.  Bit by bit.  Just like with the disciples, Christ comes into our presence and, little by little, we enter into the resurrection, into our own resurrection from fear and doubt.

In February of 2008, my sister was dying.  She had fought cancer over a lifetime, but had reached a point where she was tired of fighting.  She was ready to die.  Ready to be reunited with Christ.  Over the six months that she was in and out of the hospital, I urged her on.  In the midst of my own fear and doubt at losing her and what life would be like without her, I urged her to continue to fight.  

When she made the decision to come home to my house on hospice, I was devastated.  But, I was also determined that those last days would be the best for her.  So, I asked her what she wanted to eat, what her favorite foods were.  All she wanted were Drumstick ice cream cones.  

Over the next 7 days, friends and family came to visit, to gather around her and cry and laugh and share stories of amazing memories we had together.  And all the while, we ate Drumstick ice cream comes--4 boxes of Drumstick ice cream cones to be exact!  In that week--in the sharing of stories and ice cream, I experienced Christ’s presence.  And my own resurrection.  A resurrection out of my own tomb of fear and doubt and into the hope and joy of the resurrection with the knowledge that, no matter what, Christ would continue to be present with me.

You see fear and doubt and joy and gladness often walk hand-in-hand with each other.  All we have to do is open the Psalms to see this.  Yet, in their midst, our resurrected Lord is present, welcoming us into a new life, a resurrected life.  A life of joy and laughter, a life of love and freedom, a life of peace and wholeness, a life together with him as part of the body of Christ.  That, my friends, is the joy of the resurrection.  That is the basis for our laughter.  

And that is the reason that it is we, and not death or the devil, who ultimately have the last laugh! 

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Preached on Sunday, April 3, 2016, at Chatfield Lutheran Church.

Cicada Shells

John 20:1-18 (NRSV).  Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.  So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb.  The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first.  He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in.  Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb.  He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself.  Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes. 

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you had laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord;" and she told them that he has said these things to her.


You can’t imagine what we had been through. Jesus was dead.  Crucified.  The worst of deaths physically, like hanging on the end of a rope for hours.  The worst of deaths--personally, socially.   For the worst of criminals, the outcast of society, tarred and feathered, Letter A on your dress for adultery, crucify him, you fraud, you cancer on society.  

And we had put all our eggs in that one basket.  Jesus.  Especially me.  It was I who said.  You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.  I was the leader, or at least one of the leaders.   The kingdom of God was at hand.  But now.  Well, the future was cut off.  DEAD.

And then Mary Magdalene came on the third day.  We were still sleeping in our beds.  There’s some sense of comfort in sleeping in, and she came to me and John and said some grave robbers have taken the body.    But let me tell you about Mary M. There was something about her. She could see into Jesus' eyes and know him. More than any of us, she knew his compassion, his forgiveness. She knew how "alive" he was. And the boldness of her devotion---well, it out shown ours last Friday. We ran. she stayed.

But now this crazy story- grave robbers- she was a woman, right, and so by definition, not be trusted to have accurate recall of events.  We all know there is a reason that women were not allowed to be witnesses in the court. Mary M really loved Jesus.  He had totally turned her life around, and so, I’m sure her emotions clouded her --- rationality. 

Nevertheless, we loved her too and well, we humored her.

Ah, Peter. Yes, well, Peter and I have an interesting relationship.  He often called me Mary M., just to distinguish me from all of the other Mary’s.  I was the Mary who Jesus had healed from seven demons.  After that happened, well, I and several other women followed Jesus and the rest of the disciples and helped take care of them. 

In another time, we would have been considered their equals. Yet, in that time, we kept our place. But, with Jesus.  Well, with Jesus it was different. There never seemed to be a distinction.  In fact, at times, it seemed as though Jesus and I were closer to each other than he was with the others--with the male disciples. We were very close. 

On that horrible day, when he was dying on the cross, I was there along with his mother and only a few others.  I was there and witnessed life draining out of his body.  His very life...

But, back to the story...that morning it was dark when I went to the tomb.   There had not been time before sundown on Friday--the start of the Sabbath--to anoint his body.  (This was something we women did.  We never anointed men when they were alive--only when they were dead.)  So, that morning, I went there in the dark to finish what we should have done before Jesus was placed in the tomb. 

I arrived there just before the dawn.  You know that time of day, when the light is just beginning to break through the darkness.  It’s such a hopeful moment.  Yet, when I arrived at the tomb, I was stunned.  It was open! The stone had been rolled away! 

My first thought was grave robbers.  (They were becoming a big problem.  They would steal valuables buried with the bodies.)  I was heartsick.  I immediately turned around and ran back to get the disciples--well, to get Peter and John.  I trusted them.

Well, we ran.  John got there first,  and lo and behold, Mary M was right.  The tomb was empty,  John got there first, but he stayed at the opening, but I rushed right in.  No surprise to you who know me.  But it was a strange site for grave robbers.

Let me compare it to cicada shells.  You know those cicadas. The 17-year locusts that come out of the ground.   As a kid I would go through the woods and collect those shells they would leave behind.  I liked them because they were evidence that a miracle had occurred. They looked dead, but they were just shells. Everyone one of them had a neat slit down its back, where the living creature inside of it had escaped, pulling new legs, new eyes, new wings out of that dry brown body and taking flight.  At night I could hear their high song in the trees.   If you asked them, I’ll bet none of them could tell you where they left their old clothes.

How like Peter, a man, to use a cicada as an example!  Me, well, I might have used a butterfly--that beautiful creature that emerges from this brown, dingy cocoon.  Cicada shells.  Oh, Peter (shaking her head).

But that is what we found in that tomb.  Two piles of old clothes.  Mary didn’t even see it.  She was crying--too emotional.  She just saw the wide-open tomb and ran for us.  “The body is stolen”-   Grave robbers. 

Only why would grave robbers have bothered to undress him first?  When I went in, I saw the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head was rolled up in a place by itself.  Why go to that trouble if you’re stealing the body?

Me, emotional?  Well, maybe. 

Finally, he admits it.  He WAS emotional.  We were ALL emotional.  Over the past few days we had witnessed our beloved Jesus tortured and mocked and, finally, crucified on the cross.  We were devastated.  And, on top of that, we were terrified.  Why do you think I went to the tomb in the dark?  We were afraid that we would be next. 

None of it was making any sense.

Because, at that point, all we saw was the empty tomb. All we saw was a cicada shell. Really, we saw nothing, but emptiness and absence.    It was a pretty fragile beginning.  A mighty fragile beginning for a religion that has lasted 2000 years.  Resurrection had to be more than an empty cicada shell, empty grave clothes and empty tomb.

As hard as it is for me to accept it, it seems that the rest of the story belongs to Mary.  Thanks be to God for Mary M! 

At the time, Peter and John didn’t know that I had quietly followed them back to the tomb.  I followed them to see what they would find.  They first saw ME when they came out of the tomb and I was there crying.  After they returned home, I looked inside.  What I saw then might have knocked someone else to their knees.  There were two angels.  Dazzling white.  Dazzling bright.  Yet, it’s as if I didn’t even notice their presence.  My focus--my ENTIRE focus--was on the fact that Jesus’ body was gone.  Gone!

They, then, spoke to me, and asked me why I was weeping.  I told them why.  Could they have even known how devastated I was?  How grave robbers had taken the most precious thing, the only thing we still had--the body of our Lord and Savior?  Why would they do something like that?

I turned to leave. As I did, well, there was this man standing there.  He looked like a gardener.  It seemed right to assume this.  After all, Jesus’ tomb WAS in a garden. 

He, too, asked me why I was crying?  (Why is everyone so focused on the fact that I was crying?  Really!)  So, I was a little irritated when I told him.  When, I accused him, really, of stealing Jesus body.  I don’t think I actually believed he had taken it.  I was just so emotional.  And, then, he said my name.  Mary.  When he called me by my name, by my own name, by my very own personal name, well, then, I knew.  I knew it was him.  He was alive.  Jesus was alive! 

I said, “Rabbouni.”  (This means teacher, it’s a title used by students speaking to their rabbi.)  In that very moment, when he called me by my own name, I knew his voice and I knew I was being called--called into a new kind of relationship.  That I was being called as his apostle.  Called to share the news--to tell the others that he was alive!  And that’s what I did. I was the first to tell them that Jesus had risen!

He had outgrown his cocoon (smiles at Mary), which was too small a focus for the resurrection. The risen One had people to see and things to do. The resurrection starts with the cry of grief, an empty place, but it’s all about a familiar voice.  It’s tiny… like the fingers of a newborn. Seemingly insignificant.. Like the grain that lands in the clam’s open mouth.  Often overlooked...like a gardener.  

What happened in the tomb was entirely between Jesus and God.  For the rest of us-- for you, resurrection, new life, really began the moment the gardener said “Mary.” 

When that happened...when the crucified and risen Jesus called me by my name, well, I could feel God’s love poured into me--God’s unending, infinite love.  It’s the same for all of us--when we hear the voice of boundless love speak to our loneliness, when we hear the voice of overflowing comfort speak to our hidden hurts, when we hear the voice of soaring challenge speak to our meaninglessness and busyness, when we hear the voice of abundant life speak into our cocoons of grief, fear, anxiety, illness, depression, and addiction---when we hear God’s voice speak to us, well, that’s when the resurrection begins for each one of us. 

Whatever it is that causes you to want to curl up in bed in a fetal position and hope it all goes away.  Whatever it is, whether it’s the threat of terrorism, fear-mongering leaders, overwhelming busyness, fractured relationships.  Whatever it is. 

Today.  This day.  This Easter day we are offered more than cicada or cocoon shells, more than an empty tomb.  Our crucified and risen Lord comes to us in our baptism, calls us each by name and claims us as his own. (Walk to baptismal font.) “You are my child.  You, my beloved, are sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with my cross forever.

And in the bread and wine of Holy Communion, our crucified and risen Lord calls us each by name and offers life and promise.  (Walk to altar.)  This is my life, my loves.  My deepest desire is to give it to you.  Take and eat.  Take and drink.  This is all I have, given and shed for you. 

Called by name. Given in love.  For you.

Amen. (Said together.)

(Preached on Easter Sunday, March 27, 2016, with Pastor Mark Docken.)

Chaos and Darkness

John 20:1-18 (NRSV). Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus.Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Chaos.  That early morning in the darkness, it must have felt like chaos.  For three years, Jesus and his followers had walked the roads and streets of the countryside and the cities, teaching, learning, ministering.  From the north to the south, they lived together as families do, arguing, forgiving, loving.  The disciples, men and women, had developed a deep bond with each other and had been fully yoked to their rabbi, Jesus. 

And, then, in just a few short days, everything had fallen apart.  In just a few short days, everything had disintegrated.  Disintegrated into chaos.  Chaos and darkness.

But when chaos and darkness happen, well, that’s when God seems to be at his best. 

We just heard this.  In the stories we just listened to, we heard God at work in chaos and darkness.  Out of chaos and darkness, God forming all of creation.  Out of chaos and darkness, God delivering his chosen people from slavery and abuse at the hands of the Egyptians.  And on and on and on in the stories of our faith.

Chaos and darkness.  It is in chaos and darkness that God seems to be at his best.

It was no different that early Easter morning.  In the midst of the chaos and darkness of the past three days, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb, preparing to anoint the dead body of her beloved Jesus. And there, she found the large stone covering the entrance removed.  Grave robbers.  As if there wasn’t enough chaos. 

We know the story so well.  She ran to get Peter and John.  The three of them returned to the tomb and discovered that the body of Jesus was, in fact, gone.  Peter and John returned home, beginning to believe, but yet not fully understanding. 

After they returned home, well, Mary remained. And, as the day began to dawn, Jesus called her by name.  Mary.  And she knew who he was.   Out of chaos and darkness and into the light.

In the decades and centuries to come, this why the early Christians, as they celebrated the passover of Jesus from death to life.  As they celebrated what we now know as Easter, they began at sundown, which, for them as Jewish Christians, was the beginning of their day.  These early believers would wait in vigil in the darkness.  And as they waited, they would tell the stories.  The stories of their faith.  The stories of God at work in chaos and darkness.  The stories of God delivering his people out of it and into the light.  The stories of God’s faithfulness. 

And, then, at the crack of dawn, as the light was just beginning to break into the darkness, the baptisms would begin.  All those who had been fasting and learning for the 40 days of Lent, in intense spiritual preparation for this very moment, they would be fully immersed in pools of water, drowning their past lives and emerging into new lives as claimed children of God.  Members of God’s family.  Members of the body of Christ.  Out of chaos and darkness and into the light. 

Four years ago I was deeply engaged in my work in labor and social justice along the border in south Texas.  I had been doing this work for over twenty years and had relocated from Southern California to Texas to continue it in an area where there was little justice for people of color.  After two years of working nearly 7 days a week, we were just beginning to see progress.  And, then, everything fell apart.  And I was laid off. Chaos and darkness.

But, in the midst of it, well, God was at work.  Although, at the time, surrounded by it, I was no different than Mary.  I couldn’t see God at work. 

Yet, because of that layoff, I was pushed, literally pushed, by the Holy Spirit back to seminary to finish my studies.  And, two years later, to end up right here in this very place, preparing to enter into full-time ministry in the church.  In looking back now, I CAN see God at work in the midst of it.  God’s hand moving me out of chaos and darkness into the light. 

Where in your life has God been at work in the midst of chaos and darkness?  Perhaps you can’t see it now.  Perhaps you may never see it.  Yet, somewhere, in the midst of it, you can trust that God is present there.  Working. Faithfully.

Tonight, as we now move into reaffirming our baptism and as we receive communion, we can trust that God is at work in our midst.  At work forming and shaping us so that we, like Mary and those early Christians, might go into the world and proclaim Christ in our words and our actions of love.  Supporting the Holy Spirit in transforming our world into a new world.  Not one of chaos and darkness.  But a world of light.  A world transformed by the light of the resurrected Christ.

Amen.  That is, yeah, yeah, so shall it be!

(Preached for Easter Vigil, March 26, 2016.)