"He's Alive"

I'm glad Aunt Patty spent $85 on her new Easter hat. I even like Mr Bob's new pastel blazer he got for $45. The little girls plastered in soft yellows and the little boys with bright plaid pants. It's tough to compete with Easter attire.

But I did.

[the inverted text reads "He's Alive"]

There are louder and happier ways to say He has killed death and lives forever, but not many :)

Saturday Before New Creation

On the day after Good Friday and before Resurrection Sunday, Scott Clark writes,

Today, God is, as it were, silent but he is not asleep. The tomb is ugly, but it is also sanctus. Today is the in-between time. The first act is finished but the curtain, though torn, is not closed.

Resurrection

John Updike:

Make no mistake: if he rose at all it was as His body; if the cells' dissolution did not reverse, the molecules reknit, the amino acids rekindle, the Church will fail. Let us not mock God with metaphor, analogy, sidestepping transcendence; making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the faded credulity of earlier ages; let us walk through the door.

Sara and I are ready to go.

Please go read this.

Tom Wright at Saturday night Easter Vigil on John 20.1-10

I had an email earlier today from a friend in Sydney, Australia. And of course where he was Easter had already come. Here we are, meeting in the darkness of Holy Saturday evening, but there the sun is already up. That is an obvious geographical fact, but it points to something far more mysterious but equally true. It’s still dark in this world, but the Son has already risen – the Son of God, the crucified one, Jesus himself.

 

That’s what John is telling us in the way he recounts the breathless story of Easter morning. "On the first day of the week, very early, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb, and found the stone rolled away." Something has already happened, and we weren’t ready for it. We weren’t expecting it. Dead people stay dead. Dead Messiahs stay dead. Everybody knows that. Yes, we believe they will rise again on the last day, but not in the middle of history, not in the middle of the night, not in the middle and the muddle of our twisted and fragmented and puzzling and grieving lives.

Read the rest here.