Message Delivered at the Sunrise Service at LaFayette First UMC (LaFayette GA) — March 23, 2008

Following the tragedy of September 11, Queen Elizabeth II of England spoke to the United States and told us, “Grief is the price we pay for love.” 

In his book Life after Loss author Bob Deits writes, “Grief is the last act of love we can give those who died.”

In the first verse of the twentieth chapter of John’s gospel we read a simple sentence:  “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb” (NRSV).  The story then progresses quickly from there with Mary running as quickly as she could to find the disciples and to tell them the tomb is empty.  She’s not excited and happy yet.  She doesn’t know that Jesus is alive.  All she knows is that Jesus was hanging on the cross until he died, was taken down, put into a tomb, and a stone rolled across the entrance.   It is not a normal thing that this morning the stone would be rolled away and the body gone.  She was scared.  She was angry.  She was worried.  She was confused.  Who would have taken Jesus’ body?  What would cause them to do such a thing as this?  When did it happen?  Why did they do it?  Where is Jesus’ body now? 

The Bible’s words are simple and very quickly gloss over the real life emotions that filled Mary Magdalene that morning nearly 2000 years ago:  “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.”   That verse all by itself makes Mary into some sort of robot without emotions or feelings, but that is not the case at all.  Mary was hurting that morning. 

Jesus was her whole world.  He had changed her life.  In the gospel of Luke (8.2) we read that Jesus had cast seven demons out of her.  This same passage says that she and a few other women also walked with  Jesus and the disciples and supported them out of their own means.  She may have  also been the sinning woman who in Luke 7 came and anointed Jesus with very expensive oil, although we can’t be sure of this.  We do know that she was standing there at the foot of the cross a few days before, standing with Jesus’ mother and aunt.  We know that she watched from a distance as they took Jesus’ limp body down from the cross and laid him in a tomb.  We know she was the first to rise, early that Sunday morning and go to the tomb to spend some time with Jesus.  

She went for a very simple reason:  she loved him.  She loved the man who walked beside the Sea of Galilee speaking of the love of God.  She loved the man who raised Lazarus from the dead.  She loved the man who healed the lepers and gave sight to the blind.  She loved the man who chased the money changers out of the temple.  She loved the man who calmed the sea and fed thousands of people with a few fish and a few loaves of bread.  She loved him, and it broke her heart that he would no longer be there.  He would no longer make them laugh as they sat around the campfire at night.  He would no longer heal those stepped on my  the rest of society simply because they could not walk themselves.  Because he was gone, the blind would never see the light of day.  Because he was gone, there would be no one to stand up for the rights of the poor and the oppressed.  Because he was gone it would be so much harder to do as the prophet Micah had instructed them:  to seek justice, love kindness and to walk humbly with God (Micah 6.8). 

He was gone.   He’d been crucified, dead and buried.  Over the past few days, Mary had been forced to make a searching moral inventory of herself and had come to the conclusion that she was powerless to do anything and that her life had become unmanageable.  She was hurting and so that is why she came to Jesus’ tomb that morning so long ago. 

As she walked, the birds were singing; but Mary’s heart was breaking.

As she walked, the cows were being herded to the stalls to be milked; but Mary’s world was caving in.

As she walked, the dogs barked; but Mary didn’t hear anything but the dull darkness surrounding her soul.

Her grief was heavy.  Her pain was great.  Her love pushed her forward.  When she saw the tomb, it was all too much for her.  She ran to get the disciples and only two came running, Peter and the one Jesus loved.  They peeked in and confirmed her story, “Yes, the tomb is empty.”  That’s all they did.  They looked into the dark cave, saw no body, and then went home leaving poor Mary alone in her grief at the tomb again.

Jesus had told them just a few days earlier, “A new commandment I give to you:  love one another.  As I have loved you, you must love one another.”   They seem to have forgotten about Mary.  They were grieving, too.  They were lost in their own problems. 

What could Mary do then but cry.  Real tears for a real man who had meant so much for her.   She didn’t know where his body was.    She didn’t know where to lay the flowers or to put a headstone.  The only thing she could do was to cry.  Her tears for her Lord was the final act of love she could give to Jesus.  And as she cried, she heard a voice behind her ask what considering the circumstances might be one of the most obvious questions in the Bible:  “Ma’am,” the voice said, “We know you are standing in a cemetery and that there was a body put in the ground a few days ago and the grave is now empty, but…why are you crying?”

Mary turned around and saw a man standing there.  “Groundskeeper,” she said to him, “Where did you put the body?  Please tell me so I can go and bury him as he deserves to be buried.  If you only knew who this man was…”

The groundskeeper listened to Mary’s grief, allowing her to vent and to cry.  But when the time was right, he spoke to her saying simply her name, “Mary.”  At the sound of his voice calling her name, it was as though scales fell from her eyes and the hard shell of grief broke away from her heart.   “Teacher!” she cried and threw her arms around him.  “Teacher!  Jesus!  It’s you.  You’re alive!”   

Although the Bible doesn’t tell us this, I believe Jesus stood there for a moment embracing Mary, because he knew what this moment meant to her.  And then again, when the time was right, he said to her, “Mary, don’t cling to me like this.  Let me go because I have work to do… and so do you.  Go now and tell the others that you have seen me.”

So Mary went and became the very first person in the entire world to tell of the risen Lord.  She went because her grief was over.  She went because the risen Lord showed her that her life could move forward.  She went because of love.  You see, brothers and sisters, we cannot hold on to love.  Jesus’ love transformed Mary’s life.  Love is what carried Mary to the tomb that morning.  Love is what kept her there as she wept.  Love is what empowered her to pour out her heart to the man she thought was the gardener.  Love was what opened her eyes to the reality of Jesus Christ.  And love was what sent her out to tell the others.  When she first recognized Jesus that morning, she called him teacher.   When she let go of him to go tell the others, she was no longer a student of the teachings of Christ; instead, she was a witness to the truth that nothing—not even death—could stop Jesus from doing the work of his father. 

Brothers and sisters, we cannot hold on to love and cling to it so tightly that others cannot see it.  We cannot hold on to love of God and horde it to ourselves.  It is not something to be guarded jealously.  It is something to be given freely.  Love is not something that is so fragile it will break in the slightest breeze.  Love is something that is solid enough to withstand even the strongest storms of life.  The love of God is amazing and perfect.  God himself, the Bible tells us in 1 John 4.8, is love.  Love that is to be poured out and spilled.

We gather this morning to watch the sun rise on a glorious new day.  The lord has risen.  He has risen indeed.  Most of us probably didn’t come here this morning filled with grief (although some of us may have).  Most of us probably came here because we know the end of the story and we know that Jesus wins in the end.   Some of us are probably here because we want to fulfill our yearly obligation to God (I know, I’ve been in that place myself when I was younger).  How many of us are here this morning, though, because our hearts are heavy with grief for what the Lord has done?  How many of us are here because we love Jesus so much and we were afraid the tomb would still contain a body?  In two thousand years a lot of things have changed.  We know the tomb is empty and that our hearts do not have to be heavy with grief.  But one thing remains the same, we still cannot cling to Jesus this morning.  We have to embrace him and tell him all our troubles, but then we need to go and tell others what he is up to in our world.  We need to go and share his love.

Easter is not an obligation to be fulfilled.  It is a celebration of love to be embraced.

Easter is not a good feeling to be cherished.  It is a love to be squeezed out into a loveless and hurting world. 

Mary went to the disciples and told them.  Now it’s our turn.  Go out and love the world.  Share a little kindness.   Give a helping hand without expecting anything in return.   Listen to someone who just needs to talk…and don’t give advice, just lend an ear.  Use your gifts and talents to change the world.  Sponsor a child halfway around the world so she can go to school.  Build a habitat for humanity house.  Do whatever it takes to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ.

God’s love is great.  Go and let the world know.

To God be the glory.