The echoes of Sunday’s joyous music, strings, congregational hymns, and choir paired with our hallelujahs have begun to settle. The Easter lilies, which stood so vibrantly on the platform, might already be softening at their edges. The pastel dresses and pressed suits have been returned to the closet, and the rush of family gatherings has yielded once again to the quiet, steady rhythm of ordinary time. As we sit just a few days removed from Resurrection Sunday, I find myself pondering what happens after that stone is rolled away. It is wonderfully easy to feel the triumphant spirit of Easter when we are surrounded by a sanctuary full of brothers and sisters in Christ, bathed in the bright morning light, singing of an empty tomb. But the true power of the resurrection is not meant to be confined to a single Sunday morning on the calendar. It is meant to be the lens through which we view every ordinary, and sometimes painful, day that follows.
When Mary went to the tomb, she carried spices to anoint a body, weighed down by the grief of a shattered hope. We, too, carry with us our own spices. The anxieties about the future, our sorrow over broken relationships, our lingering fears for our health or the health of our children. We walk through a world that often feels more and more intimately acquainted with Good Friday than Easter Sunday. Yet, the promise of the empty tomb is that darkness does not have the final word. Christ’s victory over the grave meets us exactly where we are, in the midst of our struggles.
To be an “Easter people” means that we are called to live with a defiant, enduring hope. It means that when we encounter despair, we do not surrender to it, because we know the end of the story. The resurrection assures us that God is perpetually in the business of making all things new. Every act of forgiveness we extend, every moment of unexpected grace we offer to a neighbor, and every choice we make to love when it is difficult. These are all echoes of the resurrection resonating through our daily lives. We are invited to be the hands and feet of that same resurrecting power, bringing light to the forgotten corners of our communities.
As we journey further into this season, my prayer for you is that the joy of this past Sunday does not fade with the blooms of those Easter lilies. May you carry the life changing truth of the risen Christ into your workplaces, your homes, your neighborhoods. When the shadows grow long and the path seems uncertain, remember the empty tomb. The Lord is risen. He is risen, indeed. And because He lives, we can face whatever tomorrow may bring with peace. Grace and peace to you all as we continue to walk in Christ’s light.
Zach Derr
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