Matthew’s gospel has a whole lot of quaking going on. I want you to think about this quaking. Why is it here in the story? What does it mean?
27:50-53 …&……. 28:2
Sometimes it takes a little quaking to get us out of our ruts and our comfort zones, but our quaking differs considerably from God’s. Power’s shaking can’t hold a candle to love’s quaking.
I was going to race to the tomb,
but the women beat me to it.
I would have tried to roll away the stone,
but the angel-quake took care of that.
I might have raced
to tell the rest of the disciples,
assuming I wasn't among them,
behind locked doors,
quaking with fear.
The problem is
that most of these opportunities
are 2,000+ years gone.
Here’s the question I think both supersedes and surpasses our fascination with “Some bright morning, when this life is o’er, I’ll fly away.” It’s this:
“In the big scheme of things, if death doesn’t have the last word, what does this change about life?” That is, “What difference does resurrection make in your and my here & now?”
28:7 The great hope & promise of resurrection is “he is going ahead of you”. Where would we be willing to go, what would we be willing do to, and who would we be willing to become if we really believed that he is still going ahead of us?
28:8 Resurrection sets us free from having to be God & from the burden of keeping ourselves alive. THAT’s the bizarre combination of “fear and great joy” that the women feel as they leave to keep moving toward the place to which the risen Christ is calling them.
This Easter, I'm praying
for the courage to set aside
all the shoulda, coulda,
and wouldas of my life.
Then, the only things left
to do are to:
look for him among the living;
& reflect his light
into the pain, suffering,
and grief of others;
& believe I'm forgiven
so I can practice forgiving others;
& step aside so grace can expand
into the places I'd rather it didn't;
& share my broken-hearted love
in broken ways,
with other broken people;
& take a pinch of bread
and a sip of wine,
believing that sacraments
make him real in ways
beyond my fathoming;
& practice the laying on of ears,
listening to both the entombing
and the untombing stories of others.
& finally, to breathe –
just breathe –
when I cannot
muster the wherewithal
to do anything else;
This is what I'll do,
trusting it will be enough.
Yes, the reality of resurrection
comes to pass, not just
"Some bright morning,
when this life is o'er..."
but also each day
in the here and now;
not by my own acts
or righteousness,
but by the love of God
in, through,
and around us all.
Easter’s quake keeps trembling,
raising the hair on your arm
and the back of your neck,
raising hope in your heart,
raising your capacity for compassion,
raising you and I to levels of love
we’ve never imagined.
By the grace of God,
Easter's not
our burden to prove.
It's our gift to live.
© 2017 Todd Jenkins