Jesus, the Unbelievable Hope

Picking up my Bible, I whispered to it 'John, you've got my back bro'. I turned the pages that are as weary as my heart most days and opened up to the fourth synoptic gospel. John is actually my least favorite of them all, mostly because I find it astoundingly difficult to wrap my mind around.

Miracles, revelations, out-of-this-world divine happenings? It all sounds so marvelous, but it also sounds so unbelievable.

And that's okay, because that's who Jesus was to John: unbelievable.

A man that performed signs and wonders, a man that shined light into a dark world, a man who offered hope when there was none.

So today we need John's words, because today we need hope. Maybe you're weary. Maybe you're worn. Maybe you've resonated with the past few days, feeling the sting of death or the hopelessness of the world.

We have hope first with the empty tomb:

"Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”

Though it is perhaps disguised, there is hope in the midst of these words. Firstly, I love that Mary Magdalene, a woman, was the first to discover the emptiness of the tomb and that later she would be the first whom Christ appeared to in the flesh. I like to think that even here the kingdom of God was overturning cultural barriers and leveling the hierarchical playing field by reinstating that Jesus is for women, too.

Secondly, how terrifying must it have been at first to see the empty tomb? Can you imagine? Had it been me, I would've wondered who had stolen the body, would've questioned the man who had claimed to be my Savior and my God, would've wept something awful because who would be the one to bring freedom to the oppressed, now?

Hope is in the empty tomb, but it is a silent hope, a still hope, a disguised hope.

So often this is our hope. It's in the silence, in the waiting, in the desperate clinging onto of something that has to be true because this life is just too damn hard. It's a hope existent even when we cannot see, cannot muster up the strength and faith to carry on. It's a hope that's real whether we know it is or not.

So we carry on with the story and suddenly hope shines through like radiant life. It's right there among them as Jesus appears to the disciples:

"On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said,“Peace be with you!”After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you." And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit".

Hope is there in the form of a breath, a refreshing bit of life that is empowering and strong and all things good. Can you imagine what it would be like? To stand with a resurrected Jesus in your midst, to be there looking upon his hands and feet and to be feasting your eyes upon the man who touched the unclean and loved the unlovable? It'd be terrifying and beautiful all at once. I'd probably cry at the sight of hope incarnate, because if death itself could not hold this man down, then what in hell or on earth possibly could?

The disciples were overjoyed. Well, it's not difficult to see why. Hope is fleshed out before their very eyes. Hope is tangible and real and divinely present.

But then it's gone.

From the other gospels we read that Jesus left His disciples, and in the book of Acts and in the books following we see the mission that Jesus began carried out through the Church and through His followers.

How difficult must that have been, to remain faithful to the gospel story when the very person it's all about is nowhere to be found? How simultaneously glorious though that this was God's plan all along: for the mission that Jesus started to be carried out through the Church, for one man to declare freedom so that all who followed Him and His example could be set free.

For all people, men and women alike, to jump on board with the Jesus movement.

Like those before us, we are a part of this movement. All of us, men, women, and children are invited to take part in the movement that Jesus began, and this I think is the message for us on Easter Sunday.

That though Jesus is not here with us in the flesh, though we are fasting for His return, the love of Jesus is ever-present and in our grasp.

That though our King is away and preparing for us a place, He has already gone before us and paved the way of restoration and freedom and life. He has shown us the way to life. He has opened wide the gates of the kingdom.

That though we experience hardships in this life, though the world is moaning and groaning all around, we are not without hope.

That though we feel inadequate to make changes or find it impossible to stand strong, we have the same Spirit that was in Christ empowering us to love and act and speak life and breathe truth into the lives of other people.

We have the gift of community, which helps us stand strong.

We have the presence of the Father all around, inviting us to move alongside Him, to fall in step with the Spirit to live freedom lives and restoration days.

We have an invitation to love faithfully and to set the oppressed free, to give a voice to the voiceless, to adopt the orphans of this world, to stand up for injustice, to wash the feet of anyone and everyone, to have sweet community with those that we otherwise wouldn't, to do hard things in the name of Jesus.

This is the hope of the empty tomb, the hope in the resurrection, the hope in the appearance of Christ, the hope in our midst as we await His return:

For freedom we've been set free.

Let me look you in the eyes and tell you some authentic words, words that I absolutely and whole-heartedly mean with everything in me: you are made for it. No matter what's been done to you. No matter who has said what to you. No matter how you've been defined or labeled or hurt or oppressed. You are free. You are loved. You are victorious because Jesus.

Jesus walked the path to humiliation. Jesus was murdered on the cross. Jesus undertook every curse and sin and bit of darkness this world has ever known onto His very own self. Jesus died. Jesus rose. Jesus shook the ground and overturned death as the stone was rolled away by the divine power of His love. Jesus loved people and overstepped cultural boundaries and breathed life into the face of every person He encountered.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.

It's believable and unbelievable all at once. 

In a world so messy, we need such a hope. It's hard to have faith, but it's harder to live this life without one at all. 

We want a hope so desperately because we need one, but it's a hope almost too good to be true. Well believe it, dear one, because His love is real and true and waiting arms open wide. It's empowering and hopeful for us today and every day. Some days our hope is tangible while other days it's a mere thought, though a powerful thought indeed. It's the idea that as sons and daughters of God we are made to love another because He first loved us. Dear Church, come stand in the light. Let's get on our knees and live the messy. Let's throw our arms 'round each other and encourage each other strongly. Let's come together as one over food and drink and other good things and celebrate the King who has brought us together. Let's cry with one another, laugh with one another, pray with one another. Let's stomp death and close the gates of hell as we usher heaven to earth. Let's seek peace and wash feet and reclaim identities and restore people.

Let's live out the resurrection life, together.