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What if Jesus really
did rise from the dead?
Mark 16:1-8
Easter Sunday 2003, Milford Baptist
Church
What do you associate with Easter Sunday? Resurrection? New life?
Philip
Yancey says that in his early childhood he associated it not with life,
but with death, because of what happened one sunny Easter Sunday to the
only cat he ever owned. Boots was a six-week old kitten, solid black
except for little white boots on each of her feet. She lived in a
cardboard box on the screened porch. Yancey's mother, insisting that Boots
must learn to defend herself before sampling the huge outdoors, had fixed
Easter Sunday as the date for the kitten's big test.
At last the day
arrived. Sunshine had coaxed spring into full bloom. Boots sniffed her
first blade of grass, batted at her first daffodil, stalked her first
butterfly. But then the kids from next-door came over, and the unthinkable
happened. Their pet Boston terrier, Pugs, followed them into the yard
(their dog control regulations weren't as tight as ours!) Pugs spied
Boots, let out a growl, and charged. Yancey screamed. Everyone ran towards
Boots. But already Pugs had the tiny kitten in its mouth, shaking it like
a sock. Helpless, the kids watched a whirl of flashing teeth and flying
fur. Finally Pugs dropped the limp kitten on the grass and trotted off.
Yancey says he was inconsolable. All afternoon he prayed for a miracle.
Maybe Boots will come back - hadn't the Sunday School teacher told such a
story about Jesus? But eventually reality set in and Yancey accepted at
last that Boots was dead. Irreversibly dead.
I guess we all learn about that word, "irreversible," at some time or
other. I remember three years ago standing in a darkened room at the side
of a hospice bed looking down at the cancer-ravaged body of my dad. He was
dead, irreversibly dead. Nothing I could do would bring him back. I
thought of the Easter stories I'd heard at Sunday school. What if Sunday
school teachers are right? What if Jesus did rise from the grave? What
would that mean for us? There are so many implications. But let's briefly
haul out three implications from this story of three women at the tomb on
Easter Sunday morning.
We have hope (v 6)
Mark says that "just after sunrise" - as soon as they possibly could -
three grieving women set off for Jesus' tomb to anoint his body with
sweet-smelling burial spices. The sun has risen, but they stagger in
gloom. Like a mother laying flowers by a cross at the side of a road where
her much loved son tragically and prematurely died, their hearts are heavy
with pain, their faces stained with tears, their minds still numb with
grief. They had been there on Friday, watching from a distance as the One
in whom they had hoped was crucified, skewered on a cross (Mark 15:40).
When Jesus died, their hopes had died with him. So imagine how they felt
when they arrive at that tomb: the stone rolled away, the body gone, an
angel announcing that Jesus has risen. No wonder they're "alarmed." If
this news is true, it means that death is reversible. Easter holds out the
hope of life after death for those who follow Jesus. Easter means that one
day we'll get our loved ones back.
But Easter means more than life after death, as wonderful as that is. It
means that nothing in this life is hopeless or irredeemable. Think about
it. If God has the power to take the worst act in history and turn it into
the greatest victory - if God can wrest such a triumph out of the jaws of
apparent defeat - then he can bring good out of every difficult and
painful experience in life. Look at a man like Chuck Colson. He was a
hugely successful lawyer who served as special counsel to President Nixon.
But in 1974 he pleaded guilty to charges relating to the Watergate scandal
and ended up in prison for seven years. It was the darkest moment of his
life. But before going to prison, he decided to become a follower of the
risen Jesus. Colson invited Jesus to work in his life, to bring something
good out of his great failure. Out of the ashes of that man's weakness and
brokenness, emerged Prison Fellowship, the world's largest prison
ministry, which today brings love and support in 83 countries to hundreds
of thousands of prisoners and their families. Colson says, "The real
legacy of my life was my biggest failure - that I was an ex-convict. My
great humiliation - being sent to prison - was the beginning of God's
greatest use of my life." So this Easter, don't just think about life
after death. Think about what the resurrection means for us here and now
and the hopeless situations in which we find ourselves. God can breathe
new life into tense and tired relationships; God can breathe new life into
hard and unbelieving hearts. Because of Easter, we have hope when there
seems to be no hope - there is nothing in this life that God can't redeem.
We have forgiveness (v 7)
Then after announcing that Jesus had risen, the angel instructed the
women, "Go tell his disciples and Peter, 'He is going ahead of you into
Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you" (v 7). Don't you
love those two words: "Go tell his disciples … and Peter." Peter was used
to failure. There was the time when he sank in the water. The time when
Jesus said he was speaking the words of Satan. The time when he tried to
rescue Jesus with a sword and performed history's worst recorded ear
amputation. But his greatest failure, his darkest moment, came on Thursday
night when he denied Jesus three times, emphatically disowning him. After
that, how could he live with himself? How could he face any of the others?
How could he face God? Peter needed to know that he was forgiven. And
those two words assure him that he is. Despite his denial, Jesus has not
rejected him. Instead, Jesus summons him to meet him in Galilee. Galilee -
where it all began, where Jesus first called Peter to follow him. Peter
was being given a fresh start. He was forgiven.
There's a Spanish story about a father and son who had become estranged.
The son ran away, and the father set off to find him. He searched for
months to no avail. Finally, in a last desperate effort to find him, the
father put an ad in a Madrid newspaper. The ad read: "Dear Paco, meet me
in front of this newspaper office at noon on Saturday. All is forgiven. I
love you. Your Father." On Saturday 800 Pacos showed up, looking for
forgiveness and love from their fathers. Who doesn't need to be forgiven
for something? Who of us doesn't want to know that God accepts us and
loves us and will never let us go? If Jesus died for our sins and
imperfections, and the Father raised him to life, confirming the claims
Jesus made about himself, we can be assured that God says to us, "All is
forgiven. I love you."
It reminds me of the promising junior executive at IBM who was involved in
a risky venture for the company and ended up losing ten million dollars in
the gamble. He was called into the office of Tom Watson, the founder and
leader of IBM. The junior executive, overwhelmed with guilt and fear,
blurted out: "I guess you've called me in for my resignation. Here it is.
I resign." Watson replied, "You must be joking. I just invested ten
million dollars educating you; I can't afford your resignation." God says
to Peter and he says to us, "Resign? You must be joking. I've just
invested a resurrection in you. I can't afford your resignation."
We have a challenge (v 8)
Mark ends this story by saying, "Trembling and bewildered, the women went
out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were
afraid" (v 8). Now the oldest and most reliable manuscripts of Mark's
gospel end here. This is the end of the story. Don't you think this is an
astonishing and dissatisfying way to end a story that is meant to be good
news? Instead of triumph and joy there's confusion and fear. Where's the
joyful reunion, the hugs and laughter? Where's this risen Jesus? He's left
on the way to Galilee waiting for his followers to come meet him. The
story feels so incomplete. But, really, it's a stroke of genius from Mark.
By leaving the story so open-ended he's saying that the resurrection is
not the end of the story, it's just the beginning. Jesus is waiting for us
to come to him. What happens next in this story is up to us. Our lives are
the next chapter. So, as someone once said, "Easter is not primarily a
comfort, but a challenge." Now that we have been let in on this news, what
will we do? Will we run away, paralysed by fear of what we don't know or
understand? Or will we act on what we've heard and follow Jesus wherever
he leads?
The choice is ours. I know for some people an empty tomb isn't enough.
They want more proof that Jesus is alive. They almost want to see Jesus,
meet Jesus, before they'll follow him. But that's the wrong way round. I'm
reminded of Blondin, the famous French high-wire walker who pushed a
wheelbarrow along a tightrope across the Niagara Falls. The spectators
cheered wildly. Blondin asked if they thought he could do it again.
Everyone cheered wildly. He asked if they believed he could cross the
tightrope with someone in the wheelbarrow. Everyone cheered, believing
that he could do it and wanting to see the incredible stunt. Blondin then
asked for a volunteer to ride in the wheelbarrow. Silence. No one stepped
forward. And so no one discovered first hand whether that man could be
trusted. If you want to know whether Jesus did rise from the dead, if you
want to know whether he can be trusted, you first need to put your life in
his hand, and choose to follow him, wherever he leads. And then you'll
know for yourself that he is alive, that he has risen, that he can lead
you across the tightrope of life.
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