Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

She thought he was the gardener.

After all, dead people don’t just get up out of their tomb

and walk away.

They don’t very often just up and disappear,

as Jesus seems to have done,

as Simon Peter saw, and "the disciple whom Jesus loved."

But even that was more believable

than to think that he had left under his own power.

The disciples returned to their homes,

apparently saying nothing,

and not knowing what to do.

But Mary stayed behind, weeping.

She looked inside the tomb, and saw angels,

and carried on a brief conversation with them.

But even the presence of angels didn’t connect the dots for her.

She turned around, Jesus was there before her, and …

she thought he was the gardener.

Dead people don’t rise.

Except, he did.

And they do.

And we will.

And as outrageous as this story is at some levels,

and as outlandish as the promise sounds to our postmodern ears,

it’s one we need to hear, perhaps this year more than ever before.

Because our church is getting ready to die.

And we’re not sure what is going to happen next.

We are grieving …

some of us may still be in denial, but most of us are past that stage now …

some of us are angry …

some of us feel lost, even abandoned …

even those among us who feel we made the right decision

are still hurting …

some of us are thinking, "If only I had done more …"

others are thinking, "If only certain other people had done more …"

We are kind of like the disciples

in those days between the crucifixion and the resurrection.

The unthinkable has happened …

or, is about to happen.

And our world will never be the same.

So just for a minute,

let’s back up from Easter morning,

and the empty tomb,

and the gardener who turns out to be Jesus,

and recall a few of the scenes that lead us up to this point in the story.

Remember, first,

that Jesus didn’t like the idea of dying

any more than the rest of us do.

Sure, he made predictions about it;

it’s not like it came as any surprise to him.

Even so, recall that on that last night of his earthly life,

in the garden with his sleeping disciples,

he prayed that God would let the cup pass from him.

That God might find some other way to accomplish God’s purpose.

That he, Jesus, would not have to suffer and to die.

Unlike some of today’s so-called martyrs,

who seem to go gladly into death

so long as they can take a few dozen people with them …

Jesus had no particular desire to hurry along his demise.

He enjoyed good food, good wine,

the company of good friends.

Occasionally the crowds of people drove him a little crazy,

but basically, life was good.

He would rather have stayed alive, thank you very much.

Well, doesn’t that sound like us?

Even if we have come to some kind of peace

with the decision to close,

don’t we wish it could be otherwise?

Wouldn’t it be nice if God could figure out

something else to do with us?

Do we really have to die?

Lord, can’t this cup pass from us?

But as we know,

Jesus’ prayer was not answered with a "yes."

Thursday became Friday,

and Pilate pronounced his sentence,

and Jesus was crucified, between two thieves,

on a hill called The Skull.

And he endured the taunting of soldiers,

and the absence of his disciples, thank you very much …

and toward the end, he believed that even God had abandoned him.

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

are not the words of someone

who is sure that God is still caring for him

and still in control of everything that happens.

They are the words of someone who feels that

God no longer cares what happens to him.

Who feels alone in his suffering,

and wonders whether he had got it all wrong.

Do we feel at all like that?

Like we have tried to be faithful,

and yet God has abandoned us?

Like we are suffering alone,

and God is no longer in charge,

or even worse, perhaps, is in charge,

but doesn’t care what happens to us?

That is not to say that we are equal to Jesus in every respect!

But as we look to the week ahead in this congregation’s life,

the end of this congregation’s life,

we need to remember that Jesus has walked this road,

and has felt what we are feeling.

We are not, in fact, alone.

What Jesus knew,

even though he didn’t like the implications for himself …

What Jesus knew,

and what we are about to learn,

is that the only way to resurrection is through death.

There is no shortcut;

there is no faking it,

there is no alternate route.

Jesus died … and Jesus was raised.

We are getting ready to die …

and, as implausible as it seems,

we are getting ready to be raised.

Now, we will look different after our resurrection,

in the same way that Jesus looked different,

and we’ll have more to say about that next week!

But we are, even now,

being prepared for what it is that we shall be

after we have died and been laid in the tomb.

Not only as individual believers,

but also as a body of Christ’s people,

as this church called Trinity.

Please understand, I do not say this

as an attempt to tell us all to stop feeling what we feel,

or to suggest that our faith needs to be revved up,

or to short-circuit our grief process.

Not at all.

We are going to grieve and to hurt and to cry,

just as we do when a loved one dies;

just as Jesus did in facing up to the reality of his own death.

It is not a sign of unfaithfulness or "little faith"

to grieve the loss of a congregation

that has meant so much to so many of us for so long.

At the same time,

it would be a sign of "little faith"

to believe that the end is really the end

for those who are faithful to God’s call.

This year, perhaps more so than other years …

Easter needs to be about more than the chocolates and the rabbit,

more than about the lilies and the music.

This year, Easter needs to be about more than just

Jesus rising from the dead.

This year, Easter is about us.

About us dying and rising from the dead.

Like Jesus,

we don’t get to not die.

Like Jesus,

there is something for us beyond the tomb.

Mary saw him first.

She thought he was the gardener,

but then she knew.

When he said her name, she knew.

"I have seen the Lord,"

she announced to the disciples, wherever they were.

"I have seen the Lord."

This morning,

do we see the Lord,

even in our time of sadness?

Do we hear him call our name,

even though he looks unfamiliar in such a time?

Can we believe his promise,

that there is life beyond this one?

Life abundant, life with God, life with one another,

that right now we cannot even imagine?

Christ has died …

Christ is risen.

We have yet to die …

but we are, even now, preparing to be raised.

Alleluia! Amen.

© 2008 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org)