Wednesday, April 27, 2011

The Gentleness of the Risen Christ II

In the church of my upbringing, Easter Sunday was the liturgical highlight of the year.  The organist literally pulled out all the stops in fanfare; choristers of all ages, 4 to fourscore, crowded onto supplemental risers; orchestra with requisite trumpets supported the singers; Easter lilies and azaleas shouted their own silent alleluias from the steps.

We celebrated with grand spectacle "the Lord of life who triumphed o'er the grave/and rose victorious in the strife for those He came to save" (Matthew Bridges, "Crown Him with Many Crowns").  In truth, the wonder of Christ's Resurrection deserves the most glorious worship we can offer Him.

When I read the Gospels' accounts of the reality of the event, however, the quiet lack of spectacle astonishes me.  Jesus rises and shows Himself with the same unassuming humility He displayed in His birth.

Having laid down His life and taken it up again, the Good Shepherd seeks out His scattered sheep and calls them by name:

To Mary, weeping at the tomb, He comes as though a gardener.  She knows Him by the way He says her name.

To the fearful disciples hiding in a locked room, He enters speaking peace.

To the pilgrims on the Emmaus road, He comes as stranger and teacher of Torah.  They know Him in His breaking of the bread at supper.

To Thomas the doubter, He puts His finger on the questions Thomas didn't know He heard. Thomas knows Him by His wounds and His knowledge of his heart.

To Peter the demoralized, who vowed that even if everyone else abandoned Him, he never would, Peter who denied Him three times shortly thereafter, Peter who chucks three years of discipleship and goes back to the boats and the nets but finds disappointment follows him there, too--

To Peter He comes as the same Christ who called him.  Peter goes back to the beginning, and Jesus meets him there with another miraculous catch of 153 fish and breakfast on the beach.

No spectacle.  No divine special effects.  No trumpets.  Oh, but what tenderness!  The risen Christ makes Himself known to His children by the way He knows them yet seeks and loves anyway.

Wherever this finds you today, dear Crumble, weeping by the tomb, cowering in fear, held captive by stubborn doubts, too ashamed to continue on the road of discipleship, or even celebrating Resurrection joy, may the same Jesus who rose from the dead and sought His first followers seek and find you today.  May you recognize His voice in His word, His providence, and His people and follow where He leads you.

(Based Jesus' resurrection appearances recorded in Matthew 28, Mark 16, Luke 24, and John 20-21)