Easter Sermon 2007

Easter Sermon 2007 - "Is There Any Hope?"

Luke 24: 1-12

Gethsemane Lutheran Church

Rev. Darin G.E. Elvemo

In the early part of World War II, a Navy submarine was stuck on the bottom of the harbor of New York City. It seemed that all was lost. There was no electricity and the oxygen was quickly running out. In one last attempt to rescue the sailors from their steel coffin, the U.S. Navy sent a special ship equipped with Navy divers to the spot on the surface, directly above the wounded submarine. A Navy diver went over the side of the ship to the dangerous depths in one last rescue attempt.

The trapped sailors heard the metal boots of the diver land on the exterior surface, and they rushed to where they thought the rescuer would be. In the darkness they tapped in Morse code, "Is there any hope?" The diver on the outside, recognizing the message, signaled by tapping on the exterior of the sub, "Yes, there is hope."

This is the picture of our dilemma also as we worship this Easter Day. We are faced with fear, pain and loss of our own and we ask, "Is there any hope?"

On an almost daily basis, I encounter people who are dealing with cancer, struggling with health issues, terminal illness, or unexpected grief, and as a pastor it my honor to be called to sit with you in your pain.

But people don't usually come and talk when things are going well. They come when things are terrible. But it is in those moments when pain is most real, that we need to hear that God is bigger than we are, one who knows what it means to suffer, One who has been there. And when we are faced with death, we long for a word from the outside; and we cry out to God, "Is there any hope?"

During these past weeks I have been met time and again with death. Yes, there have been the deaths of funerals and terminal illnesses. But there have also been what I have come to call "little deaths," those painful things which weigh upon our hearts and drain a little bit of life from us each time they tear into the fabric of our being. These deaths are not "little" because of a lack of severity, but are termed such because although they may not in the short term lead to a cessation of breathing, in the long-term they seek to separate us from living.

There are "little deaths" all around us: there is the pain left by the note telling you your fiancé, or child, or spouse has left you; the pain of chemical dependency; of teenagers in serious trouble; of marriages on the rocks or in the midst of divorce; of a parent emotionally absent yet again; of a loved one fighting at war overseas; of the empty place at the dinner table for the first time this holiday; of hearing you aren't good enough, strong enough, or young enough to do your job anymore; or the pain of carrying around old resentments and angry words never forgotten. There are "little deaths" too numerous to name but ones for which you know in your own lives to be true. "Little deaths" come in a variety of shapes and sizes. But every one of them is heart-breaking. And we ask: "Is there any hope?"

Faced with the pain of our "little deaths" we stumble through Jesus' hanging on the cross on Good Friday and can do little more than slump to our knees when we hear of his death. For we feel that we are in the grasp of the darkest of nights caused by these "little deaths" and it seems that we are living entombed ourselves. And we cry out, "Is there any hope?"

But then the women who are going to the tomb stand before us begging us to join them on their journey and when we get there the tomb is empty.

In our gospel reading for today Luke fills his telling of the Easter Story with the conjunction—that simple contradicting word—"but." It's as if Luke is grabbing us by the shirt collars, stopping us in our tracks, and forcing us to understand that no matter what is going on in our lives, we haven't heard the whole story yet.

Luke begins his story, "But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb… but when they went in, they did not find the body… 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."

The mystery of Easter is life out of death, it's what God has always been up to in the world. But in order to give us hope in this broken world, God needed to meet us there in the death of his own son. Why God, why the cross? Because that is where the healing must begin, in the deepest time of despair. This world is broken to the core, so the core of brokenness is where God himself must go to bring us healing. God has always been about life out of death.

So when the "little deaths" of our daily pains attempt to get the last word, Luke grab us by the shirt collars and says, "But I have a different story to tell you!"

This story…this reality is new and different. This is God's Easter morning answer to the dark night of the "little deaths." This is God's way of shouting into our emptiness that because of Christ's empty tomb we are filled. Because of the resurrection we know our prayer "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven" has been made true. God has met us through his death and said a final "NO!" to the power of death. Because of Christ's empty tomb we are filled, we are given life, we are raised with him. And God answers, "Yes, there is hope!"

Christ has risen. Hallelujah! Yes, there is hope!