The first Easter! Imagine the scene at the tomb. It's still dark. You can see the single bright light of the morning star high in the sky, which is a deep shade of purple with just the faintest promise of dawn suggested by a slight twinge of golden red along the horizon. There's an almost dreamlike quality to the scene as the women slowly make their way to the tomb where the body of Christ has been laid to rest. Who was to know that it'd be the dawn not only of a new day, but a whole new era of Life in Christ? This morning we celebrate Easter 2007, and the Son is still rising! New Life in Christ is still dawning! Think of it, there have been over 2000 Easter mornings - but today, this very morning, may be the first time you, or someone you love, has ever beheld the rising Son!

    At first the women were perplexed. It was dark and there was that dreamlike quality to the scene. They were confused and didn't understand why the tomb was empty. Aren't we still in the dark? Aren't we still perplexed? Who understands the mystery of the empty tomb? We understand the emptiness of death, but we don't understand the emptiness of a tomb that points to the fullness of life. Perhaps the promise of Easter hasn't dawned on you yet, but the Son is rising. The Light of the World is coming.

    Easter 2007, and we’ve switched metaphors this year.  Actually, it wasn’t anything we did intentionally.  It was, as they say, “a God thing.”  For years we’ve saved the trunk of our sanctuary Christmas tree and reused it on Easter morning for the flowering cross.  This year, on Maundy Thursday, we suddenly realized that the Christmas tree cross had been in the storage room under the stairs to the Barn.  Need I say more?  So - Dave Green and I wandered, ever so carefully, into the wreckage, rescued a couple of boards, and Dan Mackay built another cross - from the demolished remains of the Fireside Room.  The Worship Committee decorated it with the flowers of joy and celebration, of hope and resurrection.  The symbolism this year is more powerful than ever.  It points to the New Life this Body of Christ will inhabit when our church is complete. 

    They say a picture is worth a thousand words and, if that’s true, we have several volumes of sermons stored up, because half a dozen of us were here at 7 a.m. on Maundy Thursday to see the demolition and, between us, we must have taken a thousand digital pictures.  And here’s another Easter image.  Remember Polaroid pictures?  You can hardly find Polaroid cameras anymore (I think Graham has single handedly made them obsolete with his digital) but in their day Polaroid photos were positively mystical.  I used to have a Polaroid and some of Anni’s and my most poignant memories from our first years together are documented in small, three-inch square black and white Polaroid pictures.  I’d take a picture and at first the image was as dark as night but gradually, as it was exposed to the light, the picture developed until finally everything became clearly visible. 

    That's how it was on that first Easter, and that's the whole history of Christianity in one simple metaphor. At first the women were in the dark. Then, as they remembered the words of Jesus about how the Son would rise again, it was like being exposed to the Light of the World. The image of the resurrected Christ suddenly dawned on them. Everything came into focus. Their lives were transformed by the knowledge that death is not the end. The cross of demolition blooms with the flowers of New Life and, truly, the best is yet to come.

    Filled with excitement, the women ran to tell the other disciples, but Luke’s account of the resurrection has an interesting detail about how the first Easter proclamation was received by those who had known Jesus best.  They thought these joyful words of New Life were an idle tale, like the women had simply dreamed it. Thank God for the truth of sacred dreams. They're the stuff that Life is made of.

    I told this story many years ago, but I’m sure the baseball fans amongst us will forgive the repetition.  In the movie, “Field of Dreams,” Kevin Costner plays Ray, a man with a dream. He builds a ball field in the middle of an Iowa cornfield and in the closing moments of the movie his long deceased father appears on the field. His father looks around and asks, "Is this heaven?" "No," Ray says, "this is Iowa." His dad responds, "Well, it looks like heaven." Ray, a bit perplexed and struggling to believe (like those early disciples on that first Easter morning) asks quizzically, "Is there a heaven?" His dad gets a very knowing look on his face and replies, "Oh, yes! There is a heaven. Heaven is where dreams come true." Ray thinks about that for a moment, and then says, "Maybe this is heaven!" His dad turns to go, but Ray, realizing that this experience, this image of his long deceased father is a spiritual vision of life beyond death, doesn't want it to end. So he calls out, "Dad, do you want to play catch?" (That scene always gets to me, because I used to play catch with my dad when I was a kid). The movie ends with the two of them, the son and his spirit-father, playing catch in the Field of Dreams. It's twilight, and you can just barely make out the image of the two of them. Just then Ray's wife comes out of the old white farmhouse, sees them, and flips on a huge bank of flood lights - and suddenly the field is flooded with brilliant light and everything becomes crystal clear. Is that a metaphor to live for, or am I just dreaming?  I thank God for dreams. I thank God for the Light.

    Those women who were witness to the empty tomb caught the vision of eternal life, and their lives were transformed, just as millions of people's lives have been transformed by a vision of the risen Christ down through the centuries. The women raced back to tell the other disciples what they had experienced, what they had realized. It was a dream come true, but it's one of those things you have to experience for yourself. Otherwise it seems like an idle tale, just too good to be true. Everybody knows that crosses don’t suddenly burst into bloom.  Or, do they?

    The Son of God - the Light of the World - had risen!  Gradually, as first a few and then more and more people were exposed to the Light, slowly the image of the Body of Christ began to develop, the flowers began to bloom. The women ran to spread the good news because it was so huge, so life transforming, so death defying, that they couldn't hold it inside. And that is how the eternal image of New Life in Christ began to develop and bloom. That's how the Body of Christ, which we call the Christian Church, first began to take on Life, and is still developing, still resurrecting, still living and bursting forth into blossom today. The essence of discipleship is to be a Living Witness so that others believe - because of the Christ they see living in you.

    The ancients had a saying: "He is not yet the Christ 'til he be Christ in you." The resurrection isn't just about what happened two thousand years ago; it's about what’s happening this morning, in our church and in your New Life in Christ.  It’s about the things each of us do to express the resurrection consciousness of Christ Alive in our lives and in the life of this congregation, this particular manifestation of the Body of Christ. To me, the most important expression of the resurrection body is the body of believers, living out the eternal and undying truth of God's love.

    I'll close with this. A little girl asked her mother, "Mommy, if God is bigger than we are, and if God is inside of us, won't God show through? Won't everybody see God inside us?" That’s the prayer - and the promise.  It all began with those first women who caught a vision of the Light. The Light is shining in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.  The cross has blossomed and been transformed into a beautiful symbol of hope and life.  Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! Amen.

(1) Ministry, Advantage, July/August 1994