Exodus 20.8-11, April 29, 2018 Sermon

Exodus 20.8-11

8 Remember the Sabbath day and treat it as holy. 9 Six days you may work and do all your tasks, 10 but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. Do not do any work on it—not you, your sons or daughters, your male or female servants, your animals, or the immigrant who is living with you. 11 Because the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and everything that is in them in six days, but rested on the seventh day. That is why the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

SERMON (PASTOR) 

I was about to go on a mid-afternoon walk with a friend, when I saw a church related text, none of which was pastoral care related, but which, nevertheless, was pressing. It was Friday, my day off. I responded to the text, walked with the friend at the end of which I asked if she would be interested in being on the Open Door Committee, a little work and play, and when I came back I found more phone calls and e-mails, and texts. I called back explained the next steps but that I really preferred not to deal with this on the weekend. But it was the type of thing I couldn’t ignore, and so three phone calls and multiple e-mails and quite a bit of lost sleep later, it became Sunday morning, and I look back, and while Friday, I went on a couple walks with friends, and Saturday I did a bunch of projects around the manse preparing for the summer pastor, I realized, I didn’t have much of a weekend. I didn’t really give myself a Sabbath. I didn’t look at the music playing around town that I had put in my calendar. I didn’t go find morel mushrooms in the woods. I didn’t make a wreath in the living room, or read in the hammock, or pet my bunny - who has been letting me know hopping around my feet that it needs more attention. There wasn’t a moment where I just stopped and breathed, and enjoyed the time set aside. There is a thing these days called FOMO, Fear of Missing Out, and I am afraid, I missed out on that time enjoying God. On that time recharging, on that time, where I am supposed to put down the projects, and not make walks with friends church related, and not feel the need to respond to pressing church things which are outside of Pastoral Care. But it is hard. 

I think one thing that makes it hardest is that element of outside pressure that becomes internal. On the one hand, the only person that can make you do anything is you, but on the other, there is privilege to have a choice, and I think the scripture hints at this too, “Do not do any work on it—not you, your sons or daughters, your male or female servants, your animals, or the immigrant who is living with you.” The scripture here recognizes that not only are we not to do any work, but we are not supposed to have those in our household do work. We don’t work, and we don’t make those under us work. I look back, and because I got a text on a Friday, I sent e-mails and made phones calls on Friday and Saturday to those in the church household, and just as I did not have a weekend, I pushed that on to others. We domino each other. - The boss leaves a project on your desk at the 11th hour before the weekend, the coach schedules practice throughout summer vacation, the grocery store boss says the store is to remain open on Thanksgiving day and box stores open at midnight for Black Friday, caregivers believe they are needed at every second and every hour, there is an unwritten rule that grading, lesson plans and homework, take place on Sunday evenings, and sunshine on a Saturday means the whole family is doing a house project and if that gets done we will can go on a walk - but work comes first, we tell our children, and each other. We pass on that pressure of getting things done to one another, and only some of us have the power and the privilege to stop it. To put the anxiety back on it’s original owner, “This doesn’t have to be addressed until a work day. I am sorry boss I will be leaving at five, there is nothing at the grocery store on Thanksgiving that I need if a neighbor doesn’t have, Coach I have church trip and family vacation during these days this summer, Mom, I will allow someone else to come care for you at least one of two days a week, we are going to go for a walk as a family before we do our big house project, I will plan out homework so I do not get anxious about it during family time which for us falls on Sunday.” Some of us can say some of these things, but I am sure, even as I read them, some of you felt the fear that goes along with them, “will I be fired, kicked off the team, our thanksgiving dinner subpar, the care for our loved one not up to our standard, our homework have to be done on a Friday evening instead, our family project somewhat incomplete.” There is a privilege in being able to say those things. 

I think of my sister with whom I talked this week. She is working at a very toxic work environment. It is an office where Dr.’s appointments are met with suspicion. Trips to the bathroom seem timed. Personal needs are made fun of or denied. The supervisor is afraid of the owner and unwilling to support employees and everything is top down and negative. She would like to take two days (either working remotely or unpaid vacation) to be with me on sabbatical, but she is afraid to ask. She needs the money. She doesn’t have the privilege of Sabbath.

 I likewise, think of the day labor immigrant, in San Antonio I once preached about, who every day of the week is at the Home Depot looking for work. He doesn’t have the privilege of Sabbath. He too needs to eat and feed his family. 

I think of the harvest in this town when the crop has been cut and the rains are coming. There is not a privilege of Sabbath there. 

If I work on Sundays and others work on Fridays, and we have no universal rhythm for Sabbath to fall into who should get Sabbath the Fridays or the Sundays? 

The details seem complex but I don’t believe the heart of it is. In the time Exodus was written, the people were coming out of slavery by Pharaoh. They, I imagine, knew what it was to work every day. It was slavery. So for the people of Exodus to have explicit rules and days about rest was crucial. “Do not do any work on it—not you, your sons or daughters, your male or female servants, your animals, or the immigrant who is living with you.” This was a law to keep those without the privilege of Sabbath safe, to allow that everyone have time for God. This law is two fold, like the golden rule, honor God, honor neighbor. Have we first made time to honor God before we made our to-do list, start in on work? If the rains are coming, will we make sure to spend that rain time being with God if we are using the last bits of sun for work? Second we are to honor neighbor. Are we honoring our neighbor if doctors appointments are ridiculed, or we are sending out an e-mail on a Saturday, are we paying the day laborer a fair enough wage that he might be able to have a day off without work? Part of this is about honoring God. But it is also about caring for the least of these. 

What would it look like if we were better at honoring the Sabbath for ourselves and our neighbors? For those of us with privilege to say, “I as a boss will deliver projects on Mondays instead of Fridays. I as a coach will make sure families get to spend time together during the summer and I will support my players on church trips. I, as a pastor, will not send out e-mails on a Saturday. We as a church will with our pastor, have a sabbatical in our seventh year together. I as a parent will make sure my family spends quality time together before doing household work (or I will pet my bunny before I get busy with other things).  The least of these. How do we, with the privilege of Sabbath, make sure that those among us get to enjoy time with God? Sabbath is for everyone. 

 In our Fellowship Hall are dozens of hearts which describe ways both in and outside of the church which people connect with God. Playing baseball, walking in the rain, attending fellowship and cookies, etc. Your sermon continues in that room, as we eat pizza before bowling, imagine the ways you can support others to have that time with God. Let us begin there, in our own household and branch out into our loves in the world. That for each of us we might help another find that moment, where they just stopped and breathed, and enjoyed the time set aside. That time recharging, that time, where we are supposed to put down the projects, and simply walk with friends. Amen.

Ephesians 2:8-9, April 15, 2018 Sermon

Ephesians 2:8-9 Common English Bible (CEB) 

You are saved by God’s grace because of your faith. 

This salvation is God’s gift. 

It’s not something you possessed. 

It’s not something you did of which you can be proud.

Graduates, 

Today is the day in church where we celebrate you, we honor you, we tell you the things at which you are good, and we reassure you about the future to come and your ability to get there. Today is the day you are praised. And we are proud. 

Likewise, we give this same soliloquy for adults, at retirement parties, those leaving and entering jobs, families upon moving, couples at weddings, and our dearly departed at funerals. We speak of jobs well done, and lives well lived, and new horizons to explore. It is important and meaningful, to have rituals to honor one another, and to mark transitions, but today, especially today, I want to tell you graduates, and those at different stages in your life, that there is nothing you have done, or can do, to earn the grace of God. It was already given.

That is the thing about the grace of God. There is nothing you have done to deserve it. You could have gotten all As, never missed a day of school, excelled at sports, taken Advanced Placement courses, been the President of FFA, inducted into National Honor Society, run computer systems inside and out, ran sprints faster than the majority of the state, argued with the best at Mock Trial, come to every youth group event and trip, been on homecoming court or prom king or queen, or played instruments that led to scholarships, but ultimately, grace is not about any of these, its not about anything you did. Likewise, despite what commencement speeches might implore you it’s not about anything you are going to do. It is not about what you’re are doing this summer when school lets out, it is not about what college you are going to or not going to - honors program or not, it’s not about working for Bayln, or on fires, ranching, tending your family farm, or being unemployed. And, in the future, and for those grown-ups in the room, you could have the most prestigious education, the most inspiring ideas for entrepreneurship, and  hardest work ethic. You could have scaled the ladder of success, become the boss, had the house, the family, the kids. You could vacation and travel, and serve every nonprofit and community organization, plus your church. You could leave a legacy of fertile land and fertile stock, and have invested well in stocks, and pass it all on to the best raised kids. Your Christmas card could be bragging rights for days, but it isn’t about all that either. And in fact, none of those count towards God’s grace.

Does that make you feel defeated, or freed? 

Can we hear the blessing that grace is, or does it sound like we’ve done too much not to deserve it, or perhaps, deep down, we believe that we haven’t done enough. By what standards have we been measuring ourselves, and subsequently others, that to hear a word of grace, is to feel like someone changed the rules mid game. “What do you mean our achievements don’t count, I had just moved forward three spaces, what do you mean it isn’t about my work ethic, I was almost at the finish line of retirement ready to cash in my chips?” Or perhaps, “I have fallen so far behind so early on, that I gave up, and just watched everyone else pass go.” Well, for God, grace is more like getting $200 for no other reason than passing go. God has already won, and is sharing the spoils. We don’t deserve them and we cannot earn them. And yet, they are freely given. 

Unlike degrees on a wall, or heavy engraved paper weights, or caps and gowns, or grandchildren, God’s winnings are things like unconditional love, where it doesn’t matter what you have done or not done, God is putting out God’s hand to shake yours and smile, and tell you good game, whether or not the world thinks you’ve won or lost. God’s rules are that different. For God, the game is more akin to a loving parent, where all the child had to do was be born to be proclaimed perfect. A loving parent where no matter what, mistakes, trials, or achievements, that parent does not stop loving them for one moment. And sometimes we worldly parents get caught up in the measures of this earth, but when it comes down to it, I pray we commend you for nothing you have done, but merely love you because to love is Godly. 

I think of baptism, where this church community attested to God‘s love and grace before many of you knew even how to speak, or when all you could do was answer the questions of baptism not knowing what life would bring but trusting in this loving God none the less. Likewise, this honoring our graduates today is frankly much less about your graduating, than it is just us wanting you to know you are loved, and will be remembered, and that you have place here, or whatever church you find in your life later on, or don’t find yourself in. We just want you to know you are fully loved always. And you are helping some of us adults too. Some of us, need to hear those same words. That we are fully loved, and completely welcome, and have been poured upon with grace such that our cup overflows. That is the grace we are given. Grace that God has loved us and claimed us without ceasing. So, graduates, as you are celebrated and asked 1,000 times what you are doing next year, perhaps you can hear the underlying message, You are so loved. And those of us who do the asking, what if we let go a little of the earthly scale and instead expressed what we really mean, “We love you, we care about you, you always have a place here, and with God wherever you go.” And that, is grace. 

Exodus 31:13 and Genesis 1 & 2.1-3 April 8, 2018 Sermon

FIRST SCRIPTURE READING  Exodus 31:13

Tell the Israelites: “Be sure to keep my sabbaths, because the Sabbath is a sign between me and you in every generation so you will know that I am the Lord who makes you holy.”

NOTE Genesis 1 & 2.1-3 

Note: When we read this text let us remember that we do not come to it blindly or without knowledge. We know now about things like the big bag theory and evolution, and we also know more about Biblical times, such as, words like day in Genesis can also be translated as Epoch or Era. Therefore, instead of a literal interpretation of this passage we can find other, perhaps more spiritual meanings for our lives, such as the sovereignty of God.

SECOND SCRIPTURE READING Genesis 1 & 2.1-3 

1 In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, 

2 the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God hovered over the face of the waters. 

3 Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. 4 And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light Day, and the darkness God called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

6 And God said, “Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” 7 So God made the dome and separated the waters that were under the dome from the waters that were above the dome. And it was so. 8 God called the dome Sky. And there was evening and there was morning, the second day.

9 And God said, “Let the waters under the sky be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.” And it was so. 10 God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together God called Seas. And God saw that it was good. 

11 Then God said, “Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed, and fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it.” And it was so. 12 The earth brought forth vegetation: plants yielding seed of every kind, and trees of every kind bearing fruit with the seed in it. And God saw that it was good. 13 And there was evening and there was morning, the third day.

14 And God said, “Let there be lights in the dome of the sky to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years, 15 and let them be lights in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth.” And it was so. 16 God made the two great lights—the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night—and the stars. 17 God set them in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth, 18 to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good. 19 And there was evening and there was morning, the fourth day.

20 And God said, “Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky.” 21 So God created the great sea-monsters and every living creature that moves, of every kind, with which the waters swarm, and every winged bird of every kind. And God saw that it was good. 22 God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” 23 And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day.

24 And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind.” And it was so. 25 God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind, and the cattle of every kind, and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good.

26 Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them be stewards over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.” 27 So God created humankind in God’s image  in the image of God God created them; male to female God created them. 28 God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” 29 God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. 30 And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” And it was so. 31 God saw everything that God had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day. Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all their multitude. 

2 And on the seventh day God finished the work that God had done, and God rested on the seventh day from all the work that God had done. 3 So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it, God rested from all the work that God had done in creation. 4 These are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created.

SERMON (PASTOR) 

Someone said the other day, “I wonder what God would have made had God worked on the seventh day.” My mind went crazy trying to imagine all sorts of dimensions and creatures and features that don’t exist. “I would be routing for teleportation,” I said. I stuck with that thought for awhile, but came to wonder, what if the bigger dimension is rest? What if after working six days, the most wondrous thing that God did, was to stop creating, stop working, and just enjoy. I imagine it like hiking, when you get to the top of a mountain, you don’t just turn around and head back down. You find the highest point you can sit on, and you look out at all you can see. Maybe there are vast trees and alpine lakes and other mountains in the distance, and you point and try to name them. Maybe it is fall and the tamaracks and maples and elms are giving an ember colored show. Maybe it’s late spring and even from that height you can still see patches of colored wildflowers. Maybe there is desert, or ocean, or the migration of beasts. Maybe there are homes and buildings and lights of a skyline. Maybe we time it just right for a sunset, or a sunrise. Whatever it is, after all the work we have done in climbing, we stop, perhaps pull out a sandwich or break off and share a piece of chocolate, and we look out and admire. What if this, rather than we humans, was the pinnacle of creation. What if the greatest thing God made, was the time and space and God’s example, to rest and take it all in. 

If this is the case, I am not very good at it, and knowing you like I do, you may be worse than I am. I don’t think there is one day I am not doing a little church stuff, or house chores, or listening to some work related book or podcast for self-improvement. I don’t think there is one day where I just stop and look out, and enjoy, and say thank you, and rely on God, instead of my own doing. I don’t think there is one day that I just set aside as my sabbath. Thursdays, I spend time in prayer and I try to write my sermon from the manse, but I don’t do that without first responding to a few e-mails, and making a church call or two, and besides, though my work is church, because it is Work, it is not always the same as spending time with God. I try to take Fridays and Saturdays off, but even if I ski all day, I can’t help but genuinely want to catch up with those of you I know up there. And even if I get home worn out, the pressure of trees to prune in the fading light, or counters to wipe down, or paperwork of which to take care is heavy on me. Moreover, sometimes, if there is some issue or deep need going on with a congregant, my brain isn’t very good at turning off it’s concern or stopping problem solving. I find myself tossing and turning and awake at odd hours for a number of things and I am sure you can relate. I am sure you have your own lists, and your own worries, and your own fleeting attempts to spend more time with God, but it’s hard. God may have rested on the seventh day, but God didn’t say it was easy, or would be easy for us.

I think God knew it would be hard, I think the people of Israel knew it was hard, and so Sabbath became a commandment, a rule, a guideline for living. And I think we need the same guideline reminded to us. I think we need it, not because, “God said so,” which is reason enough, but because why would we climb God’s mountain and not look out? Why would we do all our work, and not take one day, one hour, one moment, to stop, and say thank you, or just wow, or just look out?

For the Israelites their sabbath included things like not fetching and carrying water or not cleaning and cooking and instead praying to God. For us, it may look slightly different in 2018. What would it be like if we designated one day of the week away from work, if that means your job - stop checking e-mails, texts and communication for one day, if your are a stay at home parent - schedule a day away, if you are a rancher or a farmer - feed your animals and water your crop - but perhaps don’t fix anything that isn’t an emergency that day. If you are retired, don’t make future plans or spend time serving others for one day. If you are a teenager or a kid do your homework and chores the day before. If you are a Christian, that Sunday where you feel the pressure of the to-do list looming, take an hour and a half and come to church and pray and sing just as you are. Let there be one day where we don’t clean, or fix, or shop, or run errands, etc. And if one day is too much, could we start with half a day, Sunday afternoons or Sunday mornings, and if that is too much, what about once everyday, from 6pm - 7pm, or 6am - 7am, what if we rest, read a book with our family, or pray quietly before we read the news, or put on some music and listen, or go for an after dinner walk, for one hour every day.

 And if that is still too much, what if, at the beginning of our day, we prayed to God to help us find the time for Sabbath until we do. Maybe this is where we need to start. Maybe this is where I need to start, to ask God for God’s help. Maybe next week we can give an hour a day, maybe by summer we can give one day or at least a half. But let us be in prayer, because what is the point of climbing God’s mountain, if we don’t stop at the top and look out?

This creation is amazing, look at it. Amen.

Mark 16.1-8 April 1, 2018 Sermon

Mark 16.1-8 Common English Bible (CEB)

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they could go and anoint Jesus’ dead body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they came to the tomb. 

They were saying to each other, “Who’s going to roll the stone away from the entrance for us?” 

When they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away. (And it was a very large stone!) 

Going into the tomb, they saw a young man in a white robe seated on the right side; and they were startled. But he said to them, “Don’t be alarmed! You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. He isn’t here. Look, here’s the place where they laid him.

Go, tell his disciples, especially Peter, that he is going ahead of you into Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you.” Overcome with terror and dread, they fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid. 

SERMON (PASTOR) 

I imagine it happening like this…

After my Saturday Sabbath, I prepare a sermon of spices to anoint Jesus’ dead body. The first fragrance of myrrh yields a paragraph about purple pews, once full, in a church that held two services. Second, the healing goo of aloe, speaks sentences of behemoth church programs, which exhausted their leaders into burnout and defeat. Third, I mix the balm of Gilead, into a litany of criticism, against my own generation, for not being joiners, or members of institutions, especially religious ones. Once my anointing sermon is complete, very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise I drive to the church, as I have, countless times. 

I wonder aloud, “Who will unlock the doors, as those steadfast older members are on vacations with grandkids, or homebound and alone? Who will turn on the coffee, as no one has signed up in a long time up to host Fellowship Hour? Who will check that the Children’s Worship Bags are not just colored over sheets and broken crayons? Who will turn on the sound system allowing us to sit farther away from each other? Will there be music, or is there no one in our little town to accompany us today, and therefore, neither do we sing? Will it suffice on an Easter Sunday to close the old, “Choir Room,” door where troves of instruments, robes, and sheet music, lay dusty and unplayed? Will any youth come, now that there are communities of sports instead of Sunday School? Will their be heat to warm the building, or did that and the myriad of other fixes become too much, so that we now worship in the cold? Will I have to curtail the fullness of my message for fear of offending congregants with the lunacy of the gospel, or perhaps more likely, their pastor?” Who will roll away the stone so that I might anoint Jesus’ dead body?

Turning in, I look up, and the sanctuary doors are propped open, could it be the stone has been rolled away, and it was a very large stone? I go into the tomb of the sanctuary, and it is empty but for a young man in a white robe on the right side, and I am startled. But he says to me, “Don’t be alarmed! You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. He isn’t here. Look, here’s the place where they laid him.” And I look about the dim sanctuary, and I see to what he is pointing, the places, where over and over, we laid him, expecting to find the living among the dead. The places where we wondered, who will do this and who will do that, instead of asking is Jesus in this, is Jesus in that?

And I remember what he told us, about how wherever two or more of us are gathered, there he is. About when we love our neighbor, there he is. About when we love ourselves as he loved us, there he is. About when we feed the hungry, clothe the poor, and heal the sick, there he is. About when we put down the first stone, or welcome the Prodigal home, or embody the Good Samaritan, there he is. I remember too the times he turned water into wine, and wine into blood, and his blood into salvation. I remember the stories he told, of being tempted in the wilderness, and sleeping through the storm, and walking on water, and feeding five thousand from five loaves of bread and two fish, and the way the Spirit depended like a dove when he was baptized. I think about him being born out of wedlock to a teenager and still both wisemen and shepherd girls came to his manger-cradle all under a mysterious star and then, he and his family having to go into hiding from Herod and later the Pharisees. I think about him in the synagogues, and he didn’t tend to like them much, or at least their leaders, and I wonder why did we ever try to put him between these Presbyterian, or Christian walls when he lived most of his life outside them. Do we disbelieve in the resurrection so much that we come to worship his dead body at the tomb?

My eyes look up from the dark chancel, past the light streaming in through the stained glass windows, to those propped-open sanctuary doors. It is as if someone walked out and intentionally left them open. In disbelief, I find it hard to adjust to the brightness beyond, but the young man prods, “Go, tell his disciples, especially Peter, that he is going ahead of you into Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you.” I nod slowly, overcome, not with terror and dread, but with budding joy. At the corner of my mouth I feel a grin, as I realize this is the day for which I have been waiting. The day for which I have worked so hard to see into fruition. They told me this day would come, when churches would be empty and their congregants gone but even I, a pastor, had come to the sanctuary tomb - sermon in hand. The young man looks out the doors once more, and laughing now, I crumple my sermon and toss it in the nave. They have realized that being with their grandkids and on vacation is like opening the church doors. And instead of being here, they have gone out to visit those who are homebound and alone. They spend family time and friend time out in the world and invite others like the open fellowship hour of heaven. There is no need for a sound system because the people are sitting side by side in homes and in the community telling stories of their life and their God. The behemoth church mission programs have become community supported non-profits all feeding the hungry. My generation is leading and experiencing new ways to worship, from singing on mountains, praying in yoga, and bringing their Bible background to book club. The youth show us how to be Christians by being a team, or a band, or orchestra, or science club. The building is cold because the church has gone out in the world, and the pastor never offends because sermons, like this one, become face to face conversations where congregants and community members know I’m a little crazy and love me anyway and allow me to minister to them in coffeeshops, homes and hospitals nonetheless. I see the sermon sitting there and know will never have to speak those anointing words to anyone, because it seems everyone else, except for his closest disciples, already comprehends the news. "He is not here. He has been raised. He is going ahead of you.”

That is how I imagine it, the day no one shows up on Easter Sunday, will be Resurrection Day, because we will finally believe Jesus goes on ahead of us and will meet us there. It is the day where we do not need to come hold on to what has gone by, because we see and believe what is going in front of us - an ever changing, ever present, loving God. It is the day where we have trained our vision to see Christ in the foreigner, in the woman caught in adultery, and in the wayward prodigal son. Christ in a heartbreak, in a shared meal, in a clean glass of cool water, and a warm cup of tea. Christ in the laughter of a pigtailed kid, in an empty cross and tomb and in a thin blade of grass. It is the day where we are not intimidated by other religions, or our own death, because we trust that God is bigger than all and with us in all. It is the day where we need not defend or proselytize because we know how to love ourselves and love others just the way we are. It is the day there are no more worried tears, no more questions, and no more prayers besides, thank you. It is the day we know just how perfect we are - mistakes and all. It is the day we love each other likewise. It is the day we can’t keep from singing even with an out of tune voice. It is the day we believe in the future more than we relish the past. It is the day we cross out fear with hope. It is the day my church career is complete but my calling remains, to praise God, to trust God, and to live my whole life in wonder and worship. It will be the day you stop coming here, someday on Easter, because you know with your whole heart Jesus has gone ahead to meet you. It could be, today, when we walk out those doors.