Resurrection and Life after Death
The Rev. Mark Sherwindt, Pastor
Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church
Easter 2: April 22-23, 2006
This past Sunday on the Festival of Easter, the Apostle Paul told us that Christ was raised from the dead. He appealed to witnesses, some of whom had died during the intervening years between that glorious event and Paul's great awakening to faith, but most of whom were still alive and could confirm what our faith proclaims: the crucified Jesus is the Risen Christ, the Son of God, our eternal Savior. The fact of the resurrection was very important to Paul because it was the recognizable sign that revealed God's plan for creation, the sign that revealed God's will for the world, the sign that revealed our future as promised with the story of salvation. It was the sign that tipped God's hand. God, and God alone, had acted to raise Jesus from the dead. That is the literal truth of all our Scriptural accounts. The body wasn't stolen, as some had claimed. Jesus hadn't faked his death, as some suspected. He died on the cross, and God raised him from the dead. It wasn't a matter of smoke and mirrors. It wasn't a hoax or a fraud. God, and God alone, had acted: that is the fact of it, and that is the heart of it.
The New Testament struggled to describe this singularly unique event. As you may recall from our Gospel last week, Mary thought Jesus to be the gardener until she recognized him in the signal he sent through the sound of his voice in calling her by name. Some of the time, the disciples were clear about Jesus' identity. At other times, as on the road to Emmaus, they, like Mary, were unsure about Jesus' identity until he revealed himself through such signs as the breaking of the bread. Descriptive terms intended to help us get a handle of the character of this event were fraught with difficulty. The Apostle Paul acknowledged this oddity by choosing his words carefully, always in a way that captured the opaque nature of seeing through a glass dimly, and underscored the role of God alone as the acting agent responsible for the resurrection. God alone was its source, and the aim of the life Jesus was now given to live as the Risen Christ.
I am not trying to confuse you with obscure details. Rather, I am trying to disclose the unwavering conviction with which the Apostle Paul claimed to have proven his case for resurrection. It wasn't a case of mistaken identity. Nor was it a case of temporary resuscitation, as had happened with Jesus' friend Lazarus [in John 11], and the widow's son in Nain [in Luke 7], and the daughter of Jairus [in Mark 5]. Jesus was not raised to die again. It was not resuscitation, but resurrection. Jesus was the first-born of the dead, signaling the arrival of God's reign with the resurrection of our Lord. There is much more yet to come; but we have seen enough, according to Paul, to know that in Christ God's promise of new creation has broken into our world. The resurrection of Christ means that God's ultimate aim is now known: despite all the evidence to the contrary, death will not have the final word. That is God's alone to determine, and in Christ God has made it known that life, not death, will prove ultimately victorious in the end.
In Paul's mind, and for our faith, everything hinges on the established fact of the resur-rection. For this means that the promise of life after death is not just a happy thought. Looking for life after death is not just an effort to avoid facing the harsh reality of death's finality. Our hopes for heaven are not just an expression of wishful thinking - although, clearly, if we could write our own ending for life that would make us all happier, it would be one where life beyond the grave took the sting out of death and restored the joy that our relationships with those whom we love inspires and sustains.
I spent much of this past week planning a Memorial Service for Rod Huff, Ann Semple's son-in-law, her daughter Carol Ann's husband. Rod's untimely death at age fifty-four left quite a community of family and friends in shock, stunned with sadness at the turn of events that began with routine eye surgery, which, after the cascading effect of multiple complications, made death seem almost like a friend when it became evident that extensive brain damage had robbed Rod of much that made him Rod. I began my remarks with much the same beginning - actually, with exactly the same beginning - that you just heard. This led me to acknowledge that I hadn't said much about Rod in my Memorial Service message, but everything I had said said everything about our hopes for Rod, and for us, when it comes to God's promise of life everlasting. It is important the we know that these hopes are grounded in the truth about God's will, the truth about Christ's life, the truth about what these twin pillars mean for us. The Good News about the faith we proclaim and the hope to which we cling is this: it's not about how good we are, but how great God is; it's not about what we want, but what God has promised and has delivered through Christ our Lord.
Look, I was stunned, stopped in my tracks, the day I heard of Rod's passing. I had just seen him the Friday before, with Carol Ann and Eric and Andy by his side. And then, the next thing I hear is that he's gone. How could it happen? Why did it happen? In all honesty, I simply did not know the answer to these difficult questions, which is exactly why I appealed to what we do know - about God, about the Good News of Easter, about the promise of life everlasting. I don't know why Rod died. I don't know much about the complicated medical reasons behind it. I don't know what God's hidden spiritual reasons might be. But what I do know is this, the hope that Job expressed way back in the Old Testament, the Good News we sing with the Hymn of the Day: “I know that my Redeemer lives, and what comfort this sweet sentence gives. He lives! He lives, who once was dead. He lives, my ever-living head…. He lives to silence all my fears. He lives to wipe away my tears. He lives to calm my troubled heart. He lives all blessings to impart…. He lives and grants me daily breath. He lives and I shall conquer death. He lives, my mansion to prepare. He lives to bring me safely there.” [The Lutheran Book of Worship, #352, verses 1, 4 and 7]
In the important chapter of 1st Corinthians, where Paul spells out the connection between the fact of the resurrection and its implications for us, he put it this way, “Lo! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep [as in “die”], but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of God's eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed [as in “transformed” by the new life of the Risen Lord]. For this perishable nature must put on the imperishable, and this mortal nature must put on God's eternity. And when it happens that the perishable puts on the imperishable, and that this mortal nature is clothed in God's eternity, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: 'Death is swallowed up in victory.' Again, as it is written, 'O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?' The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who has given us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” [1st Corinthians 15: 51-57] The descriptive language doesn't say a whole lot about what exactly this new life is like, but Paul certainly makes it clear that it is a gift: God's gift … of Christ's life … for us and in us.
Earlier in the day yesterday, Carol Ann had shared with me how difficult it was trying to get used to Rod's absence. She thought that that might lessen with time. In this regard, I will never forget what Marilyn's mother, Azile Espe, often observed during our holiday visits after Marilyn's father died. It was so very clear that the feeling of Harlan's absence never lessened. That is death's sting in a world tied together by the love we share over a lifetime. It is certainly true that the pain of love's loss is transformed by the hope God's promise inspires, but the feeling of absence is a part of the price we pay - bittersweet, to be sure, but still a part of the price we pay - for love we share.
I jumped ahead in yesterday's message to the fourth Sunday of Easter, when we will read from the 10th chapter of the Gospel of John about the Good Shepherd. Jesus tells us that he is “the door to the sheep. All who came before me were thieves and robbers…. I am the door; if any one enters by me, he will be saved. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that you may have life, and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” [John 10: 7-11] We will hear more about this good shepherd on May 7. For now, however, we need to remember that death only pretends to come as a friend. In truth, death is nothing more than a thief and a robber, the thief that tried to rob God of his Son on the cross, the robber who rips from our lives those whom we hold dear through the ties that draw us close and bind us together in love. God would have none of it with Jesus. God will have none of it with us. We need only remember the Good News of the Good Shepherd who gives his life freely for his sheep, and that because He lives, we, too, shall live.
Job got it going with his statement of faith back in the Old Testament: “I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth, right by my side,” as our Advocate and Protector. The resurrection was the decisive sign that confirmed this hope to have broken into our world with the presence of the Risen Lord. The implications are clear, both for Paul and for us: the resurrection of Jesus Christ means life after death for all of us. That's God's promise and our hope. It is the truth of the Gospel, and the new life, the true life, God's eternal life, which is ours … in Jesus' name. Amen