April 20, 2025
Living Into the Resurrection
Luke 24:1-12
But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to the hands of sinners and be crucified and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.
Every Easter, this familiar story invites us to hear in a new way. So, each year, I find myself searching for new insights that might open a fresh perspective.
That is why I was struck recently by these words from Tomas Halik, a Hungarian Catholic theologian, in his small, recent book titled I Want You to Be.
Here is the line that stopped me in my tracks:
“Jesus does not require from his disciples a theory of resurrection but instead that they should ‘rise from the dead’ and start here and now to walk in newness of life—and the newness of life consists of love, and a Jesus-like attitude to others, to the world, to life, and to God.”
You know, you and I can spend a lot of energy trying to figure out what we think of the Resurrection. The dead do not rise; and if Jesus was raised, it is the central fact, not only of our faith, but of the universe. It begs for an explanation!
But Tomas Halik is right. Theories of the resurrection have their place, but God doesn’t ask us to study the tomb. God calls us rise and walk in new life.
With that in mind, I want us to look together at three responses we see to the resurrection here in Luke. Because in these three responses, I believe we can find ourselves.
First, there are the women. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James, and the others. They went to the tomb early with spices to anoint Jesus’ body. It was a final act of devotion for their beloved rabbi. But instead of a body, they found an empty tomb and two men in dazzling clothes, who told them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.”
What’s their response? They remembered Jesus’ words and believed. The flint of the angel’s message sparked off of the stone of their memory and created a fire of faith.
If they were in our service today, these women would sing loud; they would shout “Amen!”; and they would preach! They are the primary preachers of Easter!
This itself is remarkable because they lived in a society that did not value their voices.
The testimony of women was considered unreliable in first-century Palestine. They couldn’t even serve as legal witnesses in court. Roman and Jewish societies both restricted women’s public roles severely. Yet God chose these marginalized voices to announce history’s most important truth, a divine reversal of human sin and death.
Let that be a word of encouragement to any of us who feel too small, or too weak, or too young, or too old to make a difference.
So often those on the margins are the first to perceive what God is doing. How amazing that Christian witness began with the testimony of three marginalized women!
Now, the second response in our story is the opposite. How did these male apostles respond when the women returned? Luke tells us: “These words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.”
“An idle tale” – the Greek word is “leros” — might better be translated as “nonsense” or “useless chatter.” Unserious background noise. If you detect undertones of sexism here from men who did not trust the word of three women, you’re right. One of the great joys of Easter is how the story turns that world on its head.
But before we dismiss their response as only sexism, let’s get closer. Because I bet that we too have dismissed a message we needed because we didn’t respect the messenger or because our hearts were hard.
These disciples were grieving, stunned, traumatized, afraid, crushed.
Wounded pride and fear can cause us to shut our hearts. Think of how quickly we dismiss a difficult message when it comes from someone we disagree with politically, or how we might tune out good advice because we don’t want to change.
I wonder, this Easter, if many of us can relate to these apostles on just those terms?
We live in interesting times, and the world is delivering one crisis after another:
A hurricane and spring wildfires have raised our anxiety about climate change.
Political decisions are moving at a breakneck pace, causing fear, harming powerless people, upending a global economy, and threatening to place our democratic values in a tomb.
There are wars and rumors of wars.
It’s natural to be anxious, and when we’re anxious, it is easy to treat the gospel as useless chatter in a world with bigger problems.
Of course, those are global problems while many of us have worries that are more personal. You may be going through major life stuff. Steeling yourself for the next appointment or the next treatment or the next phone call.
Some of us have broken hearts, some have parents we worry about all the time, or kids we worry about all the time.
Even with trumpets and choir and flowers, the protective defenses we put up to get through life can turn the Resurrection into “useless chatter.”
The male apostles that first morning had hardened their hearts – all except for one. The third response in our text, in between the surprise of faith and a cold dismissal, comes from the one guy who wasn’t frozen in place:
“But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.”
Peter wasn’t like the women – he didn’t believe immediately. But unlike the other men, he didn’t dismiss this news either. He ran to check it out. And when he found the evidence of the empty tomb and the abandoned grave clothes, he went home “amazed.”
Not “believing” – he didn’t yet have faith. Not “understanding” – he didn’t have a theory. He went home amazed. This response is not yet joy, but isn’t dismissal either. It’s curiosity, a willingness to be surprised.
I suspect many of us can resonate with Peter’s response. In my life, and probably yours, experiences of wonder – like a stunning rainbow, moving music, a scientific discovery, the birth of a child, love that is freely given – have been the doorway to growing in faith.
Peter’s amazement represents an openness of the heart that comes before belief or worship. Wonder keeps our spiritual senses alive and receptive, even when knowledge feels distant.
Albert Einstein said, “[The one]… who can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapped in awe, is as good as dead – his eyes are closed.” At least Peter’s eyes were open. He couldn’t put words to it yet, but he was already walking in new life.
You see, faith is not static. It’s not either this or that.
These three responses to the resurrection – believing, dismissing, amazement – can be true for each of us, at different times. Faith is not something we have – it’s something we live.
One of the beautiful things about this story, and about the church, is that no one is alone where they are.
There is room in the church for those who believe, and there is room for those who do not yet believe, and there is room for those who need the space to stand amazed.
There is room to dance, and to wonder, and to hold space for grief – all in the same intergenerational community of faith.
What would it mean for you to rise into new life today?
You might be here and identify with the women. The spark of faith is alive. If so, sing louder! We need you! You are our proclaimers, truth-tellers, and good-newsers. We need people who have moved from perplexity to proclamation and can tell us how it happened, who have moved from fear to faith and can share that journey with us.
If you are that person, don’t hide your light. Responding to the resurrection may mean that you allow your faith to propel you into spaces where your presence and hope is desperately needed. Rising to new life may mean recognizing that your voice matters, no matter how old or young you are.
You see, it matters for someone to bring us good news when we are in despair, to speak truth to power, to stir up good trouble for the sake of God’s kingdom.
If you’re a parent, it matters that you model this for your children. If you’re a child, it matters that you claim your voice. If you’re really busy, it matters that you make time for what really matters.
If the good news of Jesus has taken root in your heart, fan the flame of that spark into a joyful and courageous faith!
Because there are others of us today who identify with the men who dismissed the news because they were prejudiced, grieving, angry, afraid. If that’s where you are, maybe rising from the dead today means letting go of the tomb.
For you, that might be disconnecting from endless doomscrolling; or breaking the habit of comparing yourself to others. It could mean simply being present. Present to the grace of your life – to the joy and hope and love of the people around you.
If you are living in the shadow of the tomb, maybe rising to new life means simply trusting that this is not the end of your story. The God of resurrection is still writing your story, and our story, and God’s steadfast love will never let us go.
And if you identify with Peter, in that space in between, maybe rising to new life means embracing amazement and wonder.
We live in a pragmatic culture that likes shortcuts and quick answers. Maybe rising for you means allowing questions to be pathways toward faith rather than obstacles to it. Maybe rising means trusting that your curiosity can be as sacred as your certainty.
Wherever you find yourself this Easter morning, the risen Christ is here to meet us. Jesus isn’t asking us to decide what we think about the empty tomb.
Jesus is calling us to walk in newness of life: to take on a Jesus-like attitude to others, to the world, to life, and to God.
For two thousand years, Christians have proclaimed this truth together. So let me ask you this morning: Christ is risen! [And invite the congregation to respond: “Christ is risen indeed!”]
So rise! From wherever you are in this Resurrection story—believing fully, questioning honestly, or simply standing amazed—rise into the resurrection life Christ offers.
Resurrection isn’t only something we believe about the past, but something we live today, with hope for God’s promised future.
Christ is risen. [Christ is risen indeed.]
And we are called to rise with him.
Amen.
Rev. Patrick W. T. Johnson, Ph.D.
First Presbyterian Church
Asheville, North Carolina