It was one of those days when nothing worked out quite the way I’d planned.  Two things I’d arranged got cancelled to accommodate something else I was asked to do but that didn’t happen either.  It got to one o’clock and I felt I’d achieved absolutely nothing.  Then to cap it all, the person I was meeting for lunch stood me up!  And we were supposed to have gone on together to another meeting, which meant the afternoon plans flew out of the window too.  I sat in the café and ate alone.  My schedule was in tatters.  Then it dawned on me there are two ways to deal with this.  Either I can bemoan my lot or I can relish the gift of a space in the day. 

When Mary arrived at the tomb on that first Easter Day, she went with a purpose.  She had gone on ahead of the other women who were equipped with the customary spices to complete the preparation of Jesus’ wounded, lifeless body for a dignified burial.  But his body wasn’t there.  It was missing.  She was not prepared for such a shock.  Although Jesus had told her that he would rise from the dead after three days, her all-consuming grief prevented any recollection of his words.  Her human logic told her his body must have been stolen (an understandable conclusion, given that grave-snatching was relatively commonplace at the time).  

In her panic, she turned and ran to tell Simon Peter and John the Son of Zebedee exactly that:  “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”  And they went to see for themselves:  she was right.  All that remained were the strips of linen wrappings lying on the rock bench, and the burial cloth for Jesus’ head, folded neatly and set apart from the rest of the linen, much in the fashion that a carpenter in those days communicated that a work was finished by placing a folded work cloth neatly on the finished article. 

Simon Peter and John left.  Mary was alone again, in her grief.  The body of the one she loved was gone.  Her plans to do the little that she had come to do were thwarted.  Disbelief doubled her agony. 

Disbelief drove her to double-check the tomb, and then to her further surprise she is confronted by two angelic beings who asked her why she was crying.  Still in shock, she is not yet able to understand or believe Jesus’ foretelling that he must rise from the dead.  Turning round, another person asks her why she’s crying.  Because she doesn’t expect to see Jesus walking about, fully alive - she doesn’t see him.  She thinks he’s the gardener. There is no recognition until Jesus calls her by name.  Then the penny drops in her soul; her heart is warmed; her eyes are opened: it is him.  Jesus, her beloved friend had risen from the dead and was standing in front of her! 

The circumstances were now very different.  Quite naturally - and as if to test the reality of the situation - Mary embraced Jesus and clung to him.  First, she had gone prepared to embalm his lifeless body; now he stood before her, saying “don’t cling to me; go and tell my brothers I must ascend to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God”. 

Mary Magdalene's announcement to the disciples: “I have seen the Lord” is why we are here today.  Mary’s closed world (and ours) is broken open when Jesus calls her name.  Her encounter with the risen Jesus changed her life.  Her tears quickly turned into joy.  Her testimony and subsequent eye witness accounts of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances are the events that enable us and all Christian people to proclaim, “Jesus is alive.  He is Risen.  Alleluia!”

Jesus’ death was real.  His rising again is real.  In his sacrificial act upon the cross, Jesus carried the full weight of the sins of the whole world.  He rose again and conquered death, once and for all.  He appeared to his disciples - in the garden, on the road to Emmaus, in the upper room.  He ascended into heaven where he lives and reigns with God the Father.  There is no greater demonstration of God’s love for us than this.  He sent Jesus for this purpose.  His mission was accomplished.      

These facts shatter human perceptions of what is plausible and possible.  These facts transformed Mary.   She was liberated.  “Don’t cling to me”, Jesus told her - free yourself from me and go and tell others.  God invites us to taste this freedom.  Because Jesus lives!  He is our intermediary, our route to God the Father who forgives our confessed sins and grants us eternal life.  This is good news!  In the language of Christianity this is the Good News - encapsulated in the Gospel of Christ.  Jesus lives in our hearts, when by the grace of God we are brought to the point when we too can say “I believe”.  

This Easter celebration is the central event of our Christian year:  it is the centre around which everything else revolves.  It’s a time to get excited about our Christian faith!  Jesus lives!  How good is that?!  When we’re travelling through life’s ups and downs, when our plans are disrupted or things don’t work out quite the way we’d planned.  When we struggle with fears and doubts (for as Christians we are not immune) this is what we need to cling to:  Jesus lives!  When we stumble and fall, Jesus picks us up brings us back into relationship with God. 

Today we live in a culture which asks not so much, “Is it true” but “Is it real.  Does it work”?  And if it “works”, “how does it work”.  The challenge facing the church, then, is to live as Easter people.  Easter people are joyful people!  They know what they’re about.  They know what they believe.  The challenge to us today is to infect others with joy!  We’ve got good news to tell.  We’re walking gospels for others to read. 

“Always be prepared to give a reason for the hope that is in you”[1] (says Paul in his First Letter to Peter).  Be ready with an answer when someone asks you what you’re so happy about!  What makes you joyful?  Be ready with an answer when they ask you why you act like you do - why you live like you do.  And not just on Easter Day but every day! 

In his book “Rumours of Life”[2] David Runcorn writes: 

“To be hopeful involves a tough engagement with life as it really is.  To hope means being utterly realistic about what we are facing.  And yet somehow to feel that there is something else - a conviction that this is all part of another story entirely, yet to be revealed, even though the evidence of our eyes points to the contrary …..

Grief-stricken and bereft, the first disciples were in no fit state to take on board the astonishing idea that Jesus had risen from the dead.  When we explore the strange cluster of stories describing the resurrection appearances, we may have much sympathy for them!  And yet we cannot help but be moved by the infinite care with which Jesus reaches out to these individuals, as, through unexpected ways and meetings, he transforms a broken, dispirited and unbelieving community into a living Church.”

Rumours of Life reminds us that the truly real is truly mysterious.  It offers deep reassurance that, however difficult or confusing our present circumstances, we can have hope.  For God raised Jesus Christ from the dead, and we are never alone on our personal journey to new birth in him.  Such mind-blowing good news calls for a response.  I am sure God wants us - like Mary - to go out and proclaim to others “I have seen the Lord!” 

Learning to recognise Jesus in each other can lead us to exclaim the same.  When Jesus said to Mary “don’t cling to me” he might mean “This isn’t heaven yet but you’re on the way.  I am now within you and empower you for a spiritual task in the world, continuing what I have begun.  You are the living Christ”.  In this way, resurrection moments happen every single day, in our encounters with others, if only we have the eyes to see and the ears to hear.  We need to practice.  We need to hone our observation skills. 

We are called to be Christ’s hands and feet in the world, serving one another as signs and symbols of his love.  Through faith in action, living by Jesus’ teaching found in the scriptures, embodying his love for others and showing it to them through word and deed.

“The Risen Christ is still the living sacrifice.  He is still offering Himself; He is still being used up by us.  His broken body, His blood outpoured, His cup runs over.  There are still no bounds to His love, there is no place too far removed from Him to seek and to save those who are lost.

He is still completely at the disposal of all who need Him.  He is still the servant of God, and without ceasing He gives Himself to those who need Him, and no questions are asked.  “Come unto me” may, and often does, sound rather trite and pious, but think what that coming means to Him.  The ceaseless listening to the sorrows, anxieties, sufferings, follies of the world, the ceaseless coming with problems, large and small, the unending demand for help, encouragement and guidance - I sometimes wonder why we don’t drain His cup dry.  No, His life is our life, He is the (living) sacrifice.  (In a moment, we will again keep the feast.)  Whatever eternal Gethsemane there may be for Christ, there will always be Calvary for us.”_[3] 

The life we are given is pure gift.  On that day when my plans were thwarted I reflected on how it felt to be freed and gave thanks to God for some space to think.  The café was busy.  I observed people coming and going.  I knew many of them.  A nod here.  A smile there.  A chance conversation.  A worry shared.  Time wasted?  I don’t think so.  For once, when I prayed “your will be done”, I think He got His way. 

Jesus is risen!  He is risen indeed! Alleluia!  Amen.