Wrapped Up In Easter

It has been a long time since I bought a new outfit for Easter. One of the benefits of being in the clergy is the simplicity of Sunday fashion choices. Even if I wear a nice new pair of trousers, they will be hidden beneath my vestments for most of the day. Instead, I get to celebrate Easter by putting on special liturgical garments like a bright white stole and a festive cope.

This year, as we make our way through Holy Week and I begin to think about the joyful proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection, I feel an urge to wrap myself up in a different sort of Easter outfit—one that feels warm and safe and secure, more like a favorite pair of pajama pants or a well-worn fleece jacket than a crisp pair of wool slacks or a new sportscoat.

How many times have you been to church for Easter? How many times have you heard the familiar stories of the discovery of the empty tomb? How many times have you stood with Mary Magdalene and the other women as they heard the angels’ message that Christ has been raised from the dead? How many times have you heard the risen Jesus speak your name?

Every time I experience the miracle of the empty tomb, I come with a different set of circumstances that yearn to know the power of Jesus’ resurrection. Sometimes I bring with me the chronic illnesses of loved ones. Sometimes I carry my own physical needs. Some years I bring with me the disappointments of my own professional or personal shortcomings. Other years I bring profound concerns about the failures of others. Sometimes Easter comes gently and easily, but other times it rushes upon me like an overwhelming encounter. Regardless, it always seems as if the risen Lord finds me in exactly the way I need to be found.

I wonder what you will bring with you to Easter this year. I have the privilege of knowing many of the pastoral concerns of the parish, but I am also acutely aware that there are many more being carried beneath the surface, sometimes known only to an individual and God. Will you hold the deepest worries of your heart out to Jesus? Will you take the risk of bearing them to God without knowing what sort of response God will provide? Will you ask the risen Christ to look upon you with renewed love and compassion, seeking from him the kindness and support that only he can offer?

This year, instead of simply coming to church and hearing the good news of Easter, I want to wrap myself up in the power of God’s love. More than experiencing the joyful proclamation of the empty tomb, I want to feel its power filling my body and my spirit. I want to know God’s victory over sin and death taking hold again in my life and in the lives of the people I love. For a variety of reasons, this year, that feels more like a warm embrace than a victorious shout.

For Christians, every Sunday is an experience of Easter. We celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ on the first day of every week, even during the Sundays in Lent. This Sunday, however, feels a little different. Like every other week, it is an opportunity to proclaim Jesus’ victory over death, but this Sunday gives us the chance to discover the empty tomb all over again. Like the disciples, who came to the place where Jesus’ body had been laid, we are allowed to approach this Sunday with sadness and grief. We can come to the garden not sure of what we will find or how Jesus will receive us. We can bring with us the burdens we have yet to put down. And we can allow the risen Lord to meet us just as we are.

Whatever it is that you need to hear from Jesus, I hope that you will come and hear it. Whatever worries you are carrying, I hope you will bring them with you and allow the one who has conquered the powers of evil and death to bear them for you. I hope that you will experience the transformative joy of Christ’s resurrection all over again and that you will receive from it the healing you seek most. Easter, after all, is not only a celebration of one person’s victory over death. It is a celebration of that victory in all of our lives. This is a time for each one of us to receive from the risen Jesus what we need most, and I pray that very thing will find you as you stand outside the empty tomb this year.

Yours faithfully,

Evan D. Garner