Easter Sunday: The Valley, the Victory, the Vision.

Part I - The Valley: Darkness (Luke 23:44-49)

“It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun's light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last. Now when the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God, saying, “Certainly this man was innocent!” And all the crowds that had assembled for this spectacle, when they saw what had taken place, returned home beating their breasts. And all his acquaintances and the women who had followed him from Galilee stood at a distance watching these things.” - (Luke 23:44-49 ESV)

By anyone's accounting it’s been a long, cold winter here in New Hampshire. According to the calendar we’re officially almost a full month into Spring at this point, but personally, I’m not sure I’m convinced just yet. You see, my brother and I spent from October through March this last year working on a big construction project up in the hills of Gilford, NH; framing in October/November, roofing in December/January, siding in February/March. It was pretty much always windy. It was always cold. It snowed, a lot. It will not come as any surprise to the sane among us, but roofing can be a little demoralizing in January. The days get a little rugged when your asphalt shingles are frozen planks, and it seems like every morning starts with shoveling 10 inches of fresh snow off of the roof you’re trying to work on. Not the timing I would recommend to any of you who may be thinking of becoming roofing contractors, when it comes down to it. But in the building trades you kind of just need to do what the project demands, when it demands it.

In any case, I feel like I’ve spent the last six months more or less constantly cold. So call me cynical, but the calendar telling me it’s spring doesn’t carry a whole lot of freight. On the first day of spring this year I showed up at the job site to a fresh 8 inches of snow, a lot of wind and the same old cold. At this point, it’ll probably take me till mid-july before this past winter is fully worked out of my bones; a few weeks of highs in the mid-forties just isn’t going to cut it.

But here’s the thing we cling to: even if Spring feels like it’s taking it’s sweet time, summer is an inevitability. It’s just physics; it’s an astronomical, planetary truth. Winter cannot hold on forever. You see, winter is a season of cold because it is a season of darkness. These two things are inextricably related. As our fourth grade science teachers taught us, the seasons come as a function of the tilt of the earth’s axis, and it’s orbit around the sun. Winter is cold because we get less, and more indirect, sunlight. Winter is a season of darkness, and of distance from the light, and so it is a season of cold. It is a season where growth and fruitfulness are hindered. On planet earth, light is life, and so winter is, naturally speaking, a season of death. But - in spite of the ten day forecast sometimes -  you and I know that it cannot last. Because the world keeps spinning, and the planet keeps moving around the sun. And as winter turns to spring - and spring to summer - our little corner of the world finds itself in the sun more and more each day. And so light, and warmth, and life are coming; we know this. There’s no stopping it.

Luke tells us that as Jesus surrendered his life on the cross for the sake of humanity there was an experience of super-natural darkness across the land. For three hours, he tells us, “the sun’s light failed”. What incredibly powerful language. In the death of Jesus the very source and sustainer of life gave up his own life, and darkness had it’s day. On the calendar, the darkest day of the year - preparing the way for the coldest season of the year - is known as the winter solstice. In human history, our darkest, coldest day is found at the cross of Christ.

The life-giving Word - that Voice that birthed the entire cosmos and called humanity into being in order that we might receive and reflect the inexhaustible love of this creator - became a human being, walking in our midst and putting on display what life actually looks like when fully and truly lived. His was the most complete, beautiful, compelling life the world has ever witnessed. So much so that, even those of us who can’t really make any sense out of the majority of his teaching still cannot help but gaze upon him in wonder. This is Jesus. Appropriately, the Apostle John referred to him, simply, as “the light”:

“The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.” - (John 1:9-11 ESV)

In our broken humanity, what do we do when confronted with a light and life that defies our categories; dangerously compelling and beyond our ability to comprehend and control? As a people who have rejected God because we have preferred the temptation to attempt being our own gods, what do we do when God suddenly shows up on the scene? We panic. Our knee-jerk reaction is one of terror and shame: we lash out in defense, snuffing out the light and striking down this terrifyingly vibrant life, left to wonder only afterwards if we could have responded differently. As Jesus gave up his life the world was covered in darkness, and the temple curtain was torn in two. Unlawfully executed, but offering no defense or resistance, as Jesus surrenders His life to the judgment that was rightfully ours the guards who put Him to death suddenly exclaim “Surely this man was innocent!”, and the crowds who had mocked him and demanded his life suddenly turn towards home, beating their chests in shame and mourning. They realized that they had missed it; but it seemed that it was too late.

We have rejected life itself; who, now shall come to our rescue and defense? This is the valley of shadow of death. This is fear and darkness and cold. But we stand here today as a people of hope because the cross is not the end of the story.


Part II - The Victory: Dawn (John 20:1-18)

"Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away 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.” So Peter went out with the other disciple, and they were going toward the tomb. Both of them were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. And stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen cloths lying there, and the face cloth, which had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen cloths but folded up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who had 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 went back to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb. And she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one 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.” Having said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” 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 Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not cling to me, for 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 that he had said these things to her." - (John 20:1-18 ESV)

Winter is marked by darkness: it begins on the day when our part of the globe sees the least amount of sunlight that it will all year. Summer is the mirror opposite; it begins on the day of the year with the MOST possible hours of sunlight. And, in between these polar opposites, we have seasons of transition and transformation: Spring and Fall, respectively.

I joked earlier about being pretty underwhelmed by the arrival of Spring this year, as the first day of Spring simply brought more snow and wind and cold to the place where I was working. It just felt like more of the same and, on an experiential level, it really was. We’ve had some record cold days this March and April; a lot of temps that didn’t look that much different from December or January. But this experiential reality obscures a deeper truth: the fact of the matter is, Spring really IS here, whether it feels like it or not.

Again, on our calendars, the start of winter is marked by the most significant absence of sunlight and the start of summer is marked by the most significant presence of sunlight. Winter is a season of darkness and summer is a season of light, but in between these watermark moments, there is a point where the tide changes. There comes a day in every calendar year when yesterday there were more hours of darkness in the world but tomorrow there will be more hours of light. We call this the Spring Equinox, and it marks the official beginning of Spring. From that day forward, it is a physical, astronomical, unavoidable fact that darkness is losing ground each and every passing day. The sun’s rays are becoming more direct and more effective each and every passing day. So, even if the polar vortex keeps March and April colder than it’s ever been recorded before, and it feels like I will never put away the scarf and gloves again, I know as an incontestable fact that it will only be a matter of weeks before we’re all scrambling to pull out the AC units because of the unbearable heat of summer. If you’re anything like me, that feels almost unimaginable at this point, but we know it’s true. As darkness gives way to light, winter gives way to spring and summer.

The cross of Jesus was a moment of darkness. The darkest moment in human history, in fact. We - humanity - had become so broken and backwards that when God showed up and put life itself on display we didn’t know what else to do but put him to death. But Jesus, for his part, willingly surrendered himself to this humiliation and suffering at our hands; willingly embraced the darkness and death that we handed him. Because he knew that, as we had rejected our creator God - and so found ourselves cut off from our source of life and fullness and purpose - that death was all we really had left to give. And he knew that if things were to ever change, if we were to ever become a people of fullness and abundance and life again that death had to be dealt with. We rejected God, and death was the consequence: a plague unleashed across all of creation. It couldn’t be ignored, it couldn’t be passed over, it couldn’t be wished away. It had to be faced and it had to be overcome. This is what happens on the cross, and this is what we celebrate in the resurrection.

If the cross - Good Friday - is the “high water” mark of darkness and evil, then on Easter Sunday we celebrate the turning of the tide. It is dawn; it is the the first day of Spring. It is the exact moment when darkness gives way to the victory of light, the moment after which the world will never be the same. In our own experience, things may not feel a whole lot different right away. There will be days when it feels like winter - brokenness and evil - will never relinquish their hold on the world. There will be days when we’re convinced that we will never again know what if feels like to be warm and alive. But as we remember and celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, we remember and celebrate the day when darkness gave way to light; when death gave way to life, and forgiveness and restoration was made possible for every person who would surrender themselves to the embrace of the life-giver: Jesus.

Don’t be fooled: summer is coming. The victory of light and warmth is an unavoidable reality, set in motion long ago. Likewise, we must not be fooled and we must not lose sight of hope: life and light and the restoration of all things is coming. Heaven is on a collision course with Earth. Jesus secured that victory a long time ago. At present, we live in a world in tension and transition; we experience both it’s beauty and brokenness almost every day. But we’re not on a treadmill; we’re heading somewhere, and our way is Jesus. As we cling to him, his victory becomes our own, and life itself is opened before us.


Part III - The Vision: A New Day (Revelation 21:1-7)

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” And he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment. The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son.” - (Revelation 21:1-7 ESV)


Here’s where the imagery of seasons breaks down in our story: seasons are cyclical, but this grand story of creation, fall and redemption is not. Whereas this coming summer will eventually and unavoidably give way again to increasing darkness and the return of winter six months or so from now, the victory of light and life that we find in Jesus, and that we celebrate today, will never be undone or overcome. There may be cycles that occur within smaller scales of human history - empires rise, empires fall - but History itself is not cyclical; it is going somewhere. And that somewhere is the restoration of all things in the power, grace and glory of the risen Christ.

All of us live in tension with our world, to one degree or another. If we’re living with our eyes open at all, we know that our world is defined by paradox. It is a place of great potential, and great pain. It is both a place of breathtaking beauty, and unspeakable brokenness. We are - all of us - beautiful, but broken, people. And we are a people with another world in our hearts. We are a people who know injustice when we see it; who can point at things like oppression and sickness and greed and poverty and hatred and somehow just know - in a place deeper than our conscious thoughts - that those things simply don’t belong in the world that we were created for. But if this is the only world we’ve ever known, and the only world that we will ever know, then where do we even get the idea that things ever could, or should, be different?

Scripture tells us that we have these longings and this knowledge because we have been created for, and are headed for, a different world. Scripture tells us that we are even now caught up in the grand story of human history. The story of a people created by and for a loving creator God, who in turn rejected relationship with this God in order to pursue lesser things, and in doing so unleashed death and chaos and brokenness upon the goodness of creation. The story of how the great love of God compelled him, rather than washing his hands of our mess and walking away, to enter our broken world, to face and claim victory over our death, and in doing so to make possible our ultimate renewal and restoration to the life we had once known but rejected. The story of the creator God who, in Jesus, places this life and hope of eternity within the hearts of all who would follow him, inviting us to journey with him as he brings light and life to bear within our world, here and now, even as we look forward to the day when all things are fully and finally made new in Christ.

This is Easter. This is our hope. And this is why we here at The Commons are compelled to gather together as a community; Journeying with God to see a World renewed, Neighborhoods transformed, and People brought to life by the Good News of Jesus Christ. Here on Easter we celebrate the dawn; the turning of the tide toward life and restoration. And, in response, we then seek to follow Christ in living as a people in light of this new day, with our hopes firmly set upon the horizon of eternity; the ultimate victory of the light. We’d love to have you join us on this journey.

*Guest Post* - "The Gospel in the Gardens"

A Guest post by my friend and colleague in the Gospel, Jared Deame. You can find his writings and reflections over at http://thecitynolongerdeserted.blogspot.com.

"The Gospel In the Gardens"

Eden

The story of God's communion with man begins in a garden. His infinite love cannot be contained so the Creator forms a human being in His image out of the dust and breathes into him His breath, His life. A love story planned before time takes shape in the midst of a quiet garden. God's will is done in the mystery and wonder of a man softly taking his first steps. Perhaps God Himself gently assisted the man to his feet, showed him how to walk, and showed him the beauty and peace of the garden that was made just for him out of God's deep compassion and provision. Everything the man needs is present in the garden and God dwells with Him in holy and undisturbed communion. On Earth as it is in Heaven.

God the Creator gives His human creation the task that He has just undertaken-to work and continue the creative process. In the cool of the garden, the man follows the example of his Father to bring beauty and purpose into the world.

But God sees that it is not good for the man to be alone so He finishes His creation with the provision of a partner. The garden is filled with their love and it brings joy to the heart of the Father as it reflects His love. Everything is as He intended. They know God and are fully known. Unashamed in their nakedness, they share space with the Creator of the universe and call him "Abba, Father." Unadulterated access to God and dwelling with Him are the marks of their existence. The Jews call it "Shalom"-the right order of things; everything as it should be. Complete wholeness, peace, rest, and fulfillment.

And yet, God allows His Creation to choose to love Him. He does not force them. They are not automatons responding to a God pulling the strings. Out of His deep love, He allows for them to decide. He is vulnerable and His love is risky.

The human beings He created decide that they want His job. They allow mistrust and pride to invade their paradise. They believe that God is withholding something from them; that He is not enough; that there is something that may be better than their relationship with Him. So they rebel. They trade their holy and perfect communion with God for a deception. The humans fatally damage their relationship with their Creator God and break His heart. He longs to be with them but they tell Him, "Our will be done." Their lives are ripped to shreds by the decision to live against the design and purpose that God lovingly gave them. Harmony with God is destroyed and His beloved leave the garden. Creation groans under the break of this relationship and the ground is cursed. The breaking of the union between God and His Creation starts in the garden and emanates through every molecule of the created order. No longer is there Shalom.

Gethsemane

Thousands of years pass. God has continued to engage with His people but their access to Him has been broken. His holiness, love, and hatred for what harms and, ultimately, destroys His children keep Him from being able to interact with them on the level that He originally designed. The people's sin keep them from Him, though He continues to work through this damaged relationship. God has had His heart broken. He has been wounded.

When someone is wounded or offended by another, there are two possible outcomes that both require a debt to be paid and an absorption of the pain. The first course of action is for the wounded party to
retaliate-to put the pain and wounding back on the original offender. The original offender "pays" for what they've done. The second course of action is for the hurt party to absorb the wound and accept and pay the debt of pain while the other person goes free.  The wounded party does not retaliate which is a great cost to him or herself. This is forgiveness.

Because it is literally impossible for the pain to just be ignored and for the relationship to just continue, true restoration requires forgiveness. Forgiveness is costly and deeply painful for the person doing the forgiving.

It is here that we find the Creator on His knees in another garden. God has put on human flesh to restore the relationship between Himself and His human creation to the state it was intended. But there must be a payment. It is costly. It is excruciating. The weight of all of humanity's rebellion-all the mockery, idolatry, pride-is on the shoulders of Jesus Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane on the night before He will bear the cost and pay the debt that is required for forgiveness.

Jesus is in sheer mental anguish. The Gospel of Luke tells us that Jesus even sweat blood because of the unimaginable stress and agonizing anticipation He was experiencing. In the dark of the garden, Jesus, the holiest of all petitioners, pleads to the Father for this seemingly unbearable cup of suffering to pass from Him. But, unlike the man in the first garden, this Man says "Yet, not my will but Yours be done."

His submission leads Him to a cross where He is hung by nails through His hands and feet. Jesus Christ absorbs the costliest of costs. He pays the greatest of all debts. Rather than retaliate against the evil done to Him and the breaking of the relationship with His creation, God hangs on a cross to give forgiveness and bring restoration. In His death, Jesus Christ willingly accepts the pain of forgiveness. He lays down His life for His beloved. With His final breath, He proclaims that it is finished.

The Garden Tomb

Jesus' body is taken from the cross and laid in a rich man's tomb. The world is unaware of what has just happened. God Himself has entered His creation and taken the penalty of egregious offense and rebellion upon Himself because of His unmeasurable love. But it doesn't end there. There is no joy in a wound that kills. There is no restoration to a relationship and redemption of brokenness without renewal. There must be resurrection.

In another quiet garden outside of His tomb, some of Jesus' closest friends come to bring spices to properly embalm Jesus' body. On a still Sunday morning, still in mourning, His friends arrive to find that the massive stone blocking the tomb has been rolled away. They are greeted by two angels who announce the good news of the Gospel for the very first time to humanity. He. Is. Risen. Just as He said He would. Death could not hold Him down. They are invited to see the place where their Lord was laid to discover it is empty with only His grave clothes remaining.

In bewilderment, all but one of the friends leave the Garden. But Mary Magdalene stays behind, weeping. She is confused and frightened, believing that maybe this isn't actually true; that perhaps someone has stolen the body.

A man's voice from behind her asks, "Why are you weeping?" Mary, believing that it is the keeper of the garden tomb, says that if he has taken Jesus' body to tell her and she will take it away. The Gardener--the One Who planted the original garden with all of its beauty, rest, and peace; the Gardener Who was wounded and rebelled against; the Gardener Who took upon Himself all of the guilt, pain, and shame of all of humanity's sin; the Gardener Who conquered death, was resurrected, and invites His children back into a restored relationship and abundant life--simply says in a gentle, loving, and reassuring voice, "Mary."

The Garden-City, New Jerusalem

After His resurrection, Jesus appears to His disciples multiple times. Before His ascension to heaven, He calls them to Himself and instructs them to go into all the world and proclaim the restoration of His kingdom to all people. Jesus invites those who repent of their sin and the ways they have damaged their relationship with God into His restorative, creative, and redemptive work in the world. His resurrection inaugurates His kingdom into this world. Just as the sin of the man in the garden affected every part of creation, so Christ's sacrifice and restoration begins to reverse the process and bring beauty and peace back to the world He created. A beachhead has been established and Jesus calls His people into His service to advance His kingdom, not through force or violence but through service, love, and justice. Those who are found in Jesus are part of His kingdom building work. Here. Now. His disciples are not in a holding pattern waiting for heaven. Heaven has broken into this world and God's people are tasked with the responsibility of ushering it in on this planet. Here. Now. The smallest acts on behalf of the Kingdom stretch into eternity. What God's people do now matters. They are His co-laborers in joyful redemption.

At the end of Scripture we are given a picture of a new garden that is to come. The perfect restoration of the created order is achieved and heaven is brought down and joined with the Earth. The Earth is restored to the way it was intended. God's dwelling is again with His people and it will never end. They are His people and He is their God. He exclaims, "See! I am making all things new!" There is no more pain, no more tears, no more brokenness or shame, no more rebellion or emptiness, no more fear or despair. Eden is recovered and blossoms into a beautiful garden-city, the New Jerusalem. God's people are again charged to work the garden and continue in an eternal perfectly satisfying and intimate relationship with Him. This is the hope and joy of the resurrection. God, through Jesus, invites us back to His garden.

A Word to our church about "Being the Church".

Believe it or not, Palm Sunday is less than a week away. And, here at The Commons, we're going to celebrate the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem by stepping out into OUR city to joyfully declare Christ through some tangible acts of service.

One of the themes that seems to be coming up again and again for me as we press into this Launch Team season together is the conviction that God is calling us to learn how to BE the Church, before we make the leap to "DOING church". The trouble is that being - and tangibly living into our identity and call as - the Church is a much steeper, more challenging path. I love preaching and teaching. I love music and singing and leading people in worship on a Sunday morning. And those are good things - important, life giving and holy things; expressions of love and joy and of our corporate journey towards deeper and fuller intimacy with Christ. We should never forsake those things. However - relatively speaking - those are also EASY things for those of us who are familiar with and comfortable in traditional church settings.

But to BE the Church? That's a challenge. To meet people we haven't met yet, and serve people we haven't served yet, and to engage broken systems and families and neighborhoods because that's what Jesus himself would be - and is - doing? That'll stretch us. That's a road that will quickly find ourselves at the end of our comfort zones, experiencing the sort of risk that seems to settle in the pit of your stomach like the feeling of riding a roller coaster as it crests that first big hill. There is fear to be found on this path, and resistance. The Enemy has a vested interest in seeing the lost remain lost, and the broken remain broken. But scripture tells us that perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18), and that it is the love of Christ that compels us (2 Cor. 5:14) to press through whatever resistance we may face - internally or externally - to see those who Jesus loves come into his embrace in a new and deeper way. Yes, there is fear and there is risk on this path we are called to as the Church, but there is also life: deep, profound, abundant life.

I will confess, as I consider how the mission of God will press us beyond the ends of ourselves together over these next months, I have never been more terrified. Because it's a terrifying thing to come to the point this journey of faith where your own strength and competency and easy, natural compassion meet their end. To follow Jesus into a place where you would never have gone otherwise? That will make one wrestle with the definition of faith and trust. So, I'm terrified. But I've also never felt more alive, or more close to the heart of Jesus, than when I am on mission with him; out beyond the raggedy edge of strength and competency, where only His strength and His Spirit could do the work. That's where a life worth living is to be found, and I'm excited to go there with you all.

A Hope Beyond Circumstance

This passage spoke to me again this morning, as it has many days in the past. I just love the refrain, reminding us of the source and foundation of a hope that is able to stand, over and against whatever circumstances we may happen to face:

"As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?...

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you... Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and waves have gone over me. By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life...

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God." - Psalm 42 (selected)