Wadhams United Church of Christ
2569 County Route 10, Wadhams, NY 12993
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Dawn was just a faint glimmer of hope on the eastern horizon when the two women in our story headed out for the tomb that held their much beloved teacher and mentor. They probably hadn’t slept much the night before, not because they were too excited in anticipation of Easter morning, but because they had known the weary insomnia of those fiercely grieved by the unexpected and violent death of someone they loved and respected. Those who have experienced such trauma can tell you about the shattered nerves, the sick feeling in the pit of their stomachs, and the heavy, lifeless stone in their chests which replaced the hearts that used to beat with joy and delight when they were with their loved ones.
The horror of what had been done to Jesus was still fresh in their minds as they picked their way toward the stone-cold tomb laying so still in the shadow of death. I can’t help but think that those vivid flashbacks had haunted their thoughts and restless dreams all through the seemingly endless night. Mary, who had sat often at Jesus’ feet, no doubt wanted to be with him yet again, to feel her teacher’s strength, to know his calm assurance, to grasp his unflinching faith in the face of this devastating tragedy. The personal demons that he had put to flight were no doubt clamoring on the brink of this yawning chasm that had opened up to devour her and pull her back into the darkness of her past.
Deep beneath the earth, down to the bedrock that supported her very existence, huge Tectonic plates were shifting perilously, sliding toward a calamitous earthquake that would literally rock her world. The fragile toehold that she had on her sanity seemed to be slipping away from her as she gaped at the now-open tomb. Sitting astride the stone that used to cover the tomb, the mere presence of an unearthly visitor was enough to set the seasoned guards to trembling and convulsing into a dead faint. But Mary could find no such sweet respite from this nightmare that wouldn’t end. Like a bolt of lightning splitting a storm-darkened sky, the stranger on the stone pierced the darkness of her soul with a voice that rumbled and crackled and echoed like thunder.
Terror had overtaken her as she struggled to comprehend what this alien being was saying to her. His words were something like, “Don’t be afraid,” but that was a little hard to take from someone whose face was shining like lightning, and whose clothes were gleaming brighter than sunshine reflected off a field of snow. The sounds coming out of his mouth were utter nonsense, and she felt herself sliding deeper into the abyss, until she heard the name that had charmed her fears: I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. How could he know who she had come looking for? How did he know what had happened to her teacher? The ground beneath her feet stopped rolling and churning for just an instant. The lurching panic gripping her soul was suspended in frozen animation; the clamoring demons became inexplicably silent at the sound of that name.
He isn’t here! He declared with simple joy. He has been raised from the dead, just as he said would happen. Come on, see for yourselves; see where his body was lying. Raised from the dead? Her mind flashed back to Lazarus and his dying days; it nudged her toward the unbelievable image of a staggering mummy tottering out of the tomb, with Jesus calling out to set him free. She heard faint echoes rumbling still through the valley of the shadow of death, the last vestiges of the words that Martha had shared with her after Lazarus came back alive from the grave. For Jesus had said: I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die like everyone else, will live again. They are given eternal life for believing in me and will never perish. Now it was as if Jesus were speaking to her: Do you believe this, Mary?
Her mind was still twisting and turning, stumbling and fumbling for some solid ground in the midst of a rolling, churning sea that was changing her life forever. The only reference point she had in order to comprehend this strange alien’s words came from the day that Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead. Was it true? Could it be possible? Was Jesus alive, come back from Sheol, to walk this earth yet again? She reeled and lurched at the thought, for the abuse had been so thorough, the torture so profound, the wounds so horrific, the death so traumatic. How could he possibly live again after enduring such treatment? But she didn’t have time to puzzle it out, to explain it all to satisfy herself or anyone else who was bound to question her.
The stranger had only paused long enough to let her satisfy her curiosity about the limp grave clothes lying on the stone-cold slab. His voice took on an urgency that burned itself into her mind, etching a memory that would remain with her until her dying days. And now, go quickly and tell his disciples he has been raised from the dead, and he is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there. Remember, I have told you. Jesus, alive, waiting in Galilee. The faint promise of dawn had come rising beyond the valley of dark shadows, lighting the way for her trembling soul. Sheer adrenalin was rushing through her veins, holding rational thought at bay, urging her on toward her meeting with her risen mentor and healer.
Her racing mind latched on to the task at hand: “The disciples. We’ve got to find the disciples. We need to find them now so we can go see Jesus in Galilee.” They rushed back the way they had come, their insides a jumbled mix of the unnerving fear that comes from other-worldly encounters and rapturous joy from this unexpected turn of events. But what was this? Someone standing in their path, blocking their progress? She couldn’t quite make out his features. The closer they got, the more puzzling it became. Just as she was ready to call out with breathless voice to get him to move out of the way, he spoke, and the sound of his voice made the birds hush their singing. The sweet melody ringing through the air brought tears of joy to her eyes, and made her heart swell with love and devotion. She and the other Mary fell at his feet, lavishing him with an outpouring of joyous adoration. Still, like the lingering scent of ozone after a burst of lightning, the fear and terror persisted in trembling hands and shaky voices. Don’t be afraid, Jesus said with joy dancing from his lips, go tell my brothers to leave for Galilee, and they will see me there.
So we sometimes come to our gardens, when hope seems nothing more than a faint glimmer on a dark horizon. Our sleepless nights can leave us feeling edgy and unsettled. Some of you have known shattered nerves, a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the heavy, lifeless stone in your chest where your heart used to be. Sometimes, our painful memories haunt our dreams, and when our waking moments are seized with anxiety, we long to know God close, to feel God’s strength, to have a fresh infusion of calm assurance, to be able to grasp an unflinching faith while life seems to unravel around us. While we struggle to pick our way along darkened paths, it seems like the very earth beneath our feet is quaking and heaving. What are the earthquakes that rock our worlds?
The death of a loved one? A failed or faltering marriage? A child struggling against the troubles of life and seemingly losing? The loss of a job and its steady income? A diagnosis of a painful or debilitating disease? The crumbling of a cherished dream? Feeling alone in a world that seems to be geared toward couples? Feeling betrayed by someone we trusted? Being unfairly accused of wrongdoing, or suffering the injustice of a highly politicized organization looking for a scapegoat? Mind you, we can still feel the fault lines of these Tectonic fractures for decades after they happen. The memory of those painful events can leap back into our minds in an instant, bringing unbidden bitterness clamoring for revenge, or taunting us yet again with those old feelings of inadequacy, or peculiarity, or abandonment, or the nagging feeling that there must be something wrong with us that these things should still trouble us so many years later.
Sometimes it seems like we can find no sweet respite from the nightmares that never seem to end, and the latest crisis threatens to pitch us headfirst back into the yawning chasm that swallowed us up in days gone by. In one of those paradoxes that will probably puzzle me until the day I die, it’s the earthquakes and the storms that get our attention. We’re so busy lurching and scrambling in the changing sea of circumstances that we don’t have time or energy to ponder the mystery of God with us in trying times. We’re so preoccupied with our internal messages and all the external pressures screaming for our attention that we have a hard time hearing the quiet whisper of the Spirit.
But the earth moving beneath our feet? That gets our attention. A stormy flash that rumbles and crackles and echoes through our souls? We sit up to take notice. In such moments, the divine admonition, “Don’t be afraid,” seems hard to take to heart. Faith can seem pretty nonsensical when we are struggling to comprehend the fact that our lives have changed forever with a single blast of tragedy or trouble. And yet, there is a compelling urgency to the voice that echoes through the abyss of hard times. The Spirit of God hovering over the chaotic seas of our existence still has the power to suspend our lurching panic in frozen animation. The Spirit still has the power to calm our fears, and to stop the ground beneath our feet from its rolling and heaving, even if it’s just for an instant. The Spirit of God still breathes the name of the one who meets us in the darkest valleys of life.
We come to the garden to pay respects to the faith and hope we thought had died, to say goodbye to the God of yesteryear who seemed to be so near, only to find that the tomb is empty. We come to the garden to bury our cherished dreams, to catch one last glimpse of the life we used to know, only to discover that God is waiting for us at the tombs of our despair, our skepticism, or our cynicism. Fault lines old and new conspire to throw us off our steps toward the darkness of the past, as deep calls to deep within us to leave our earthbound lives behind us. The very Spirit of God cries out through thunderous storm and quaking earth to pull us away from deadly pitfalls, toxic thinking, and self-defeating behavior.
Our lives were changed forever in that garden so long ago, but just like Mary and those who would soon come this way to see for themselves, we need to walk it for ourselves. How do we find the garden? Our disappointments mark the path; our shattered hopes become stepping stones toward the glory of Easter; our grief and pain propel us with growing urgency toward our encounter with the risen Christ. In this confusing jumble of unnerving fear and depth of longing, the one standing strong to block our progress toward chaos and misery calls out to us in melodious greeting. Though we cannot yet fully comprehend the mystery of an empty tomb, may we, like Mary, hear God’s voice falling on our ears. May we, like Mary, be brought to our knees in adoration and devotion to the one who embraced death itself in order to deliver us from the dark power of the grave.
Order of Service
April 12, 2009 Easter Sunday
Welcome, Announcements & Prayer Requests
A Candle for Peace NC #573 (verse 3)
Call to Worship
Leader: O God of all our days, we come to you from the shadow of the cross to celebrate the gift of Easter morning.
People: O God of Easter joy, we come this morning to proclaim the good news: Christ is risen! Open our hearts that we may sense you near.
Leader: Open our lives, that we may be faithful witnesses to your resurrection. May we, with those who have gone before us, proclaim your steadfast, liberating love.
People: May the Risen Christ be with us in this time of worship to lift our gaze beyond the grave.
Leader: May Christ’s presence with us transform us with new hope and new life.
Hymn NC #233 Christ the Lord is Risen Today
Responsive Prayer
Leader: Mighty God, as we behold the glory of your resurrection, take us back to that moment of mystery, when the women first beheld the empty tomb, when hope and joy mingled with grief and loss.
People: Take us back to folded grave clothes laying on a stone-cold slab, to Mary Magdalene’s dawning recognition of the risen Jesus.
Leader: Take us back to remind us of the greatest truth in life, that there is a life above and beyond what we see in our darkest days.
People: Take us back, O Living God, to carve Easter’s story into our stony hearts. By your living, loving Spirit etch these images in our minds and souls, so that they might linger with us when all seems lost.
Leader: O God of Resurrection, meet us here today to call us beyond our doubts & fears. Speak to us in quaking earth, flashing lightning, and dew-covered flowers.
People: Shatter our complacency the way you shattered the power of death, and call us forth into the world with the kind of deep peace and joy that will constantly restore our souls.
Leader: Let the Christ who emerged from the grave deliver us from all that is deadly, so that we might be messengers of love.
Pastoral Prayer, Lord’s Prayer
Hymn NC #237 I Come to the Garden Alone
Scripture Psalm 116:1-9, 15-16 John 20:1-18
Sermon Easter’s Garden
Reflection, Offering, Doxology, Dedication
Hymn NC #245 The Day of Resurrection
Benediction
Leader: As this day changed everything about human history, dear God, help it to work changes in us as well.
People: Remake us in the image of Christ, and grant that we may see all of life from your vantage point.
Leader: Convert the very desires of our hearts, so that we no longer live for ourselves but for others. Make us good and generous and loving, and help us to find joy in the simplest things.
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