If you find yourself sitting in Church this Easter Sunday a little bit smug; if you have walked into our parish building with your shoulders a bit more square; if you strode to your pew with a strong sense of confidence; if you are sitting here reading this text with an air of â€œholier than thouâ€ — then youâ€™ve got this Easter thing down fairly well.
Itâ€™s not that you are here with a disposition of haughtiness nor a feeling of superiority, but if you do have a self-sense that is really communicating a package of â€œI’m really something very important this morningâ€ — then youâ€™ve got this Easter thing down fairly well.
You see, itâ€™s the feeling that this morning everything around you is here for you is really pretty much what God would want you to feel this morning — it has all been done for you! But hereâ€™s the catch — as you look around at those who are in the pew beside you, behind you, in front of you, and all around — theyâ€™re feeling the same thing, or at least they should be.
The grave could not hold Jesus. A 47-gazillion pound boulder blocking the entrance of his tomb was but a piece of fluff that could be rolled away for Jesus to get on with the work of the day. Work?, you ask. Of course! He had to make sure that the two disciples got into a racing match to see who could beat the other to the cemetery; He had to find Mary Magdalene crying in the garden to let her know that she was all right; He had to meet the two disciples on the road to let them know that their despair was misplaced; He had work to do to let these folk know that He did it all for them. And, as you have probably figured out, He is doing the same thing for you this morning — He wants you to know that He did it all for you, and those who are in the pew beside you, behind you, in front of you, and all around.
May your smugness, square shoulders, and wide striding steps lead you to the truth that — Jesus lives! — for you!