Nobody likes defeat. It’s one of
the most awful feelings in life. This is
what Mary and the disciples were experiencing as they were facing the harsh
reality of Jesus’ death.
Join Mary as she stumbles through the dark cemetery, tears dripping on
the cold ground as she makes her way to the tomb. Can you picture yourself there with Mary
during that early morning hour?
Many a people have been there with Mary.
The teenager whose friend was killed in a tragic accident and she’s left
with a broken heart. The widow who sits
at her kitchen table staring at the calendar marking the anniversary of her
husband’s death. The little child whose
dog, a Golden Retriever dies and she experiences a deep grief for the first
time in her life.
Yes, we’ve been there with Mary.
We’ve walked that walk. And it’s
early in the morning and it’s dark.
When Mary reaches the tomb, she is shocked to find that the stone had
been removed from the tomb. Frantically,
she runs and tells Peter and an unnamed disciple about this startling news.
It’s when Mary returns to the tomb that she encounters the risen
Christ. And from there, she races off to
tell the disciples this good news and why we’re here today. Jesus is risen!
Friends, Easter is what it’s all about. It’s because of Easter that sin and death do
not have the last word. This is why the
Apostle Paul concludes his magnificent chapter in I Corinthians 15 with the
words, “The sting of death is sin, and
the power of sin is the law. But thanks
be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The key word in that verse is the word, “victory” or in the original Greek
language, “Nikos.” What a great word to
describe the good news of our faith!
What a great word to describe what happened on that first Easter
morning! Victory! Nikos!
Many of you know that I have a personal web blog that I maintain on a
regular basis. I named it “Nikos” after
this wonderful verse in I Corinthians.
Nike, the sports apparel company that has the famous swoosh symbol is a
variation of this same Greek word for victory.
Back in my youth pastor days, I tried to tie in the popularity of the
Nike brand by naming our monthly youth newsletter, “Nikos.” It was my attempt to tie in a popular
cultural image with the good news of the resurrection.
I often told the youth of my church that whenever they received their
Nikos newsletter in the mail to remember the victory of Easter. I told them that no matter what they were
facing at that time, no matter what struggle or disappointment or despair they
were going through to always remember the resurrection and the victory of Jesus
Christ. I wanted my youth group to have
a faith that was grounded in and centered on the victory of the resurrection.
Mary’s darkness turned to light when she saw the resurrected Jesus. And our darkness turns to light when we
remember the empty tomb and God’s victory over sin and death.
“But thanks be to God, who gives
us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Victory!
Nikos!
Nobody likes defeat, which makes victory so wonderful. I experienced a victory this past week. Penny and I watched 60 Minutes last
Sunday. Big mistake. Those of you who watched 60 Minutes last week
know what I mean.
They talked about how sugar is really bad for you and they used the
word, “toxic.” The doctor who was
interviewed on the show believes that sugar should be in the same category as
tobacco in terms of its health risks. As
Penny and I watched this episode, we became convinced that we should be much
more careful with our sugar intake. I
was all excited about this new change in my life.
Everything was going really, really well until about Monday afternoon
when I was getting hungry. Did any of
you buy chocolate Easter candy from our youth group? That innocent looking box of chocolates was
staring back at me. I stared right back
into the eyes of those tiny chocolate bunny rabbits. “No,”
I thought to myself. You made a
commitment. You can do this. And
I said, “Get behind me Satan!”
Tuesday offered up no toxic temptations.
And then Wednesday came. While
walking through the church parlor, a gracious church member handed me small
piece of cake but I kindly declined.
During our Wednesday Fellowship Dinner, I purposely sat as far away from
the dessert table as you could possibly get.
Thursday rolls around and there’s another church meal. When I shared that I didn’t have time to stay
for lunch, one of our wonderful cooks says to me, “Oh, let me fix you and Pastor Cheryl some food and at least you can
have it later. Which pie do you want?”
I told her about my new commitment. Since she knew I had a sweet tooth,
a look of confusion came to her face and she said, “Oh that’s too bad because we have some peanut butter pie.” She said, “But
why don’t you just take a piece with you in case you change your mind?” She caught me in a moment of great
weakness and I said, “OK, if you insist.”
As Pastor Cheryl and I were finishing up our late lunch together, I
began to stare at that delicious piece of pie.
I said to Pastor Cheryl who now knew about my new life change, “What would it hurt if I just have this one
piece of pie? It’s all about moderation,
right? Just don’t tell anyone, alright? This will just be between you and me.”
And then I came to my senses. “What am I thinking? No.”
And with Pastor Cheryl and Sandy Roberts as my witnesses, I gave my
piece of pie to one of our church office volunteers. Friends, I have made it through a dessert-free
week!
“But thanks be to God, who gives
us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Victory! Nikos!
This past winter, I officiated at a funeral. The service was held at one of the funeral
homes here in town. Following the
service, we processed to the cemetery.
We got out of our cars and slowly walked through the brownish green
grass that had endured the harshness of the cold winter months.
I watched as friends and family members walked ever so slowly toward the
folding chairs that were awaiting us by the tombstone. I have observed countless numbers of these
cemetery rituals and this one was no different.
Taking my place next to the tombstone, I waited patiently as the people
strolled through the bumpy and uneven ground.
The sorrow of the day was matched by the gray skies and the wintry
chill.
The elderly widower took his place in the center chair and other family
members sat in the chairs next to him.
Almost no words had been spoken.
The pain of death had stricken them.
My heart went out to this husband who was saying goodbye to his wife of
63 years.
The funeral director nodded for me to begin. I opened with a few verses of scripture and
then offered the words of committal. I
closed our brief service with a prayer for God to bring comfort to us in our
time of sorrow and loss.
But then something happened following that prayer that I will never
forget. When I raised my head after
saying, “amen,” I noticed that the
widower was looking intently into my eyes and I could tell that he wanted to
tell me something, something very important.
After a few seconds of gathering his thoughts and while others carefully
listened out of great curiosity, this elderly gentleman said, “When you were saying that prayer, the sun
came out from behind you and it was shining so bright. And I felt a warmth.”
And the way he told me this, I knew that he wasn’t referring to a physical
warmth. He had felt a spiritual warmth
in that moment. The clouds of death and grief had given way to an assurance of
God’s presence at the top of that cemetery hill.
I nodded my head to indicate that I understood what he meant. And as he got up from his chair, he kept
repeating to himself, “It was the strangest
thing. It was the strangest thing.”
Just when you think the tomb is sealed and shut, your heart is broken,
and the grief is so deep, resurrection happens!
Victory! Nikos!
This past January, I was on facebook, scrolling down through the updates
of my friends and one update caught me off guard. A friend of mine who I attended seminary with
had a post which stated that it was the three year death anniversary of his son
Bradley who was fifteen at the time of his death.
Bradley was severely handicapped all his life. Here’s what his dad, my friend wrote about
Bradley at the funeral service three years ago.
I share this with his permission.
I remember when you were born a
few weeks premature. I remember going
home for the first time and showing your new bedroom. We had decorated your room with a Winnie the
Pooh theme.
I will remember an amazing fight you
displayed during 44 days at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, absolutely beating
all of the odds in your quest to live.
I
remember wheeling you down Main Street USA at Disney World. I remember the tender touch of Tigger’s hand
and the gift that was to me. But more
importantly, I remember the tenderness Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and all of
their friends showed you.
I remember when you graduated from high
school. It might have been the best day
of your life. You smiled as the
wheelchair lift elevated you up to the stage level. More than 4,000 people cheered as they
wheeled you across the stage to receive your diploma. In May of 1989, the doctors gave you no hope
to survive. They told me “don’t bother
signing him up for preschool.” But on
that day in May of 2007, they gave you a diploma.
I remember your graduation party and your
ability to stay in your chair the whole day to greet all of your guests. Hundreds of people came to celebrate with
you. It was a grand day. As we took you back to the nursing home that
night and gently laid you back in bed I will never forget the smile that came
across your face.
I
remember your last hospital stay. You
fought with all of your might and strength.
You never gave up. Some people die with a tank half full. You died empty. You gave it your all.
As you were dying I told you it was OK,
and for you to take the hand of Jesus and go.
Don’t waste one minute worrying about me. I’ll make it.
Somehow, someway, sometime I’ll be OK, by the grace of God. I love you, Bradley, from the bottom of my
heart. – Dad.
So when I saw my friend’s facebook post about his son’s death
anniversary, I couldn’t help but to feel the darkness of that moment for him. Usually facebook posts are on the lighter
side and uplifting, but sometimes, you’re reminded of the reality of death and
sadness.
Thankfully, there’s another part of this story that I’d like to leave with
us today. Bradley became the inspiration
for a facility that ended up being built in Nicaragua which offers therapy for
extremely impoverished handicap children.
It’s called Bradley’s House of Hope.
With the help of 400 families from more than 20 different states, a
grass hut was replaced with a 3,600 square feet facility, complete with
utilities and a horse stable. Operating
on a modest budget of $50,000 a year, Bradley’s House of Hope provides
transportation to the facility, physical therapy, equestrian therapy, special
education classes, English language classes for the parents, bible studies, and
social support for 80 children and their families. All these services are provided free of
charge because of the generosity of the friends of Bradley’s House of Hope.
It’s because of the empty tomb that hope is alive in a severely poverty
stricken part of Nicaragua. Out of deep
grief and darkness, has come new life and hope.
Victory! Nikos!
I wonder if on this day of resurrection, we might want to have a part in
this remarkable story of hope. A special
offering envelope is available in one of the pew pockets in front of you if you
feel led to make a financial gift to Bradley’s House of Hope. Checks may be made payable to our church with
“Bradley” on the memo and we’ll make sure these gifts get sent to this new
mission outreach for handicap children in Nicaragua.
When Mary went to the tomb, it was dark.
But then John tells us that she saw the risen Lord. Victory!
Nikos!
Happy Easter!
.
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