Matthew 28:1-10

After the Sabbath, when the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. Suddenly there was a great earthquake because an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone from the entrance of the tomb and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him, the guards shook and became like dead men.

But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid. I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He’s not here, he has been raised, as he said. Come and see the place where he lay, then go and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead and he is going ahead of you to Galilee, there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.”

So the women left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy to tell his disciples. On the way, Jesus met them and said, “Greetings.” They came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then he said to them, “Do not be afraid, but go and tell my disciples to go to Galilee. There they will see me.”

It’s always good to smile on Easter, so I thought we should start with something worth a laugh that the kids might get a kick out of, too. This little video is a portion of something that YouTube calls “Incredible Moments When Dads Save the Day.” (We didn't watch the whole thing Sunday morning, but...)

You can tell they are dads, mostly by the mothers gasping and laughing in the background. And in one of the clips I edited out for the sake of time, the dad had my dad’s uniform on – white socks and sandals. But none of that is really the point.

Seeing that little video of “incredible moments when Dads saved the day” made me realize how we can sometimes simplify the Good News of Easter to such a degree that we may only be hearing and sharing a portion of what Easter’s good news is really all about; we may only be getting “half” of the Truth, if you will, which wasn’t part of my plan, but fits pretty well with the “Half-Truths” sermon series we spent so much time with during Lent around here the last few weeks.

What I mean is, we focus a lot – if not all – of our time and energy and Easter theology on the notion that, in Jesus Christ, God the Father, saves us, like some kind of Super Dad, from the death and damnation that our sins would otherwise demand. One of my favorite hymns of all sings, “my sin, not in part, but the whole was nailed to his cross and I bear it no more, praise the Lord, praise the Lord, oh my soul.”

So don’t get me wrong – that is the Gospel’s good news and it is True with a capital T. But it is also only part of what makes Good Friday’s sadness and Easter’s joy True, with a capital T.

What I mean is, Jesus didn’t die on the cross just so we wouldn’t have to. We’re all going to die after all, and for many of us, it may not include a cross, but it still won’t be pretty or painless. And Jesus didn’t die on the cross just because God knew the likes of you and I wouldn’t have the faith or the courage to climb up there, ourselves.

And Jesus didn’t die on the cross because, in the cosmic math of how much suffering had to be endured in order to atone for the sins of all humanity, Jesus’ death – by way of whips and thorns and spit and nails – was the only thing that would measure up. Jesus’ dying wasn’t just a tit-for-tat kind of transaction that would balance the scales of our sinfulness.

Yes, the Lamb of God in Jesus Christ takes away the sin of the world. But there’s more. And the more comes on Easter morning. On Easter we get the rest of the story; the Full Monty; the Truth, the whole Truth and nothing but the Truth.

Jesus didn’t just come to die to save us from our sins. Jesus was raised, too, to show us what real living looks like. Jesus didn’t just die to save us. Jesus lived to show us a better way. God, in Jesus Christ showed up to let the world see that the ways of God – peace, humility, sacrifice, generosity, obedience, grace, mercy, love – always, always, always win.

And that’s the kind of Easter news we need as much as ever in the world these days…

Whether there was good reason or need for it, or not, our country just dropped what is celebrated as the Mother Of All Bombs – the largest non-nuclear weapon ever engaged in the history of wars. Three days after Good Friday, on the other side of the empty tomb, we are reminded – in spite of ourselves – that violence is not the way to God’s kind of victory in this world.

We live in a world that convinces us we need to have more and get more and keep more – that more money and things and stuff are the way to greater security; that our identity is wrapped up in the value of what we have. Three days after Good Friday, on the other side of the empty tomb, we are reminded that Judas and his 30 pieces of silver lost it all in the end.

We live in a culture that glorifies independence and self-reliance and the virtue of “picking yourself up by your own bootstraps” to such a degree that we pretend we’ve earned or deserve all that is ours. Even more, we’ve convinced ourselves and others that if you have less than you are less and that you just don’t deserve it until you’ve earned it. Three days after Good Friday, on the other side of the empty tomb, we are reminded that humbled by God’s grace and that humility trumps pride, every time.

God’s Church in the world still fights and bickers and pretends it can draw lines around and put up barriers against and administrate who’s “in” and whose “out” as far God’s children are concerned. Three days after Good Friday, on the other side of the empty tomb, we are reminded that God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the WORLD – the whole wide world and all that is in it – would be saved through him.

We have had our share of dying already this year around here – at Cross of Grace and in our community – and it saddens me to imagine that the year’s not over. But three days after Good Friday, on the other side of the empty tomb, we are reminded that the ways of life as believers – things like faith, hope, and love, I mean – have sustained us in the face of it, and will continue to in the days to come.

Jesus’ resurrection is a slap in the face to the ways of sin and darkness; it’s a reality check about what matters and what works and what wins as far as our God is concerned. Jesus was raised so we would know what real humility, true strength, legitimate power, and amazing grace look like – and that they triumph over the ways of sin, death, greed, fear and despair whenever we have courage, faith and love enough to put them to work in our lives, for the sake of the world.

So I like the Dad videos, because what parent doesn’t want to put on a cape and save their kids from a scraped knee or a broken bone or from even more if/when we might have to? But the other side of parenthood – the harder work of loving children – the faithful work of loving one another like God does – is the daily, obedient willingness to love one another in spite of what’s broken; to sacrifice when we’re not sure we have any more to give; to bear burdens that seem like more than we can carry on our own; to offer comfort, hope and peace in the face of so much to the contrary. In other words, to follow in the ways of Jesus and to do it trusting that the ways of God will win the day every time.

And that’s the Truth, the whole Truth and nothing but the Truth of Easter’s good news. Forgiveness of sins yes. But even more: amazing love, so great it conquers even sin and death, and inspires us to live and to love differently and in bold, surprising, hopeful ways, ourselves – like Jesus did – for us and for the sake of the world.

Amen. Alleluia. Happy Easter.

Matthew 7:1-5

Jesus said, "Do not judge, so that you will not be judged. For with the judgement that you make you, you will be judged, and the measure that you give will be the measure that you get. Why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' while the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor's eye."

I’m sorry I can’t give credit where credit is due, but I just can’t remember where or from whom I first heard this. But some time ago, I read about someone who challenges the way we introduce ourselves and our friends and family to one another, in our culture.

The suggestion – which I think holds water – is that how we introduce ourselves and each other when we meet is limited, incomplete, and uninspiring, to say the least. Of course we start with a name, like Brandy, Andrew, Joyce, or Aaron. And generally, the next thing we think to say about someone is what they do for a living – where they work – if they’re an adult, for example. And, if it’s a kid or a young adult, the most we offer up is their age, or their grade in school, or maybe what university they attend and what they might be studying.

Like Brandy is a teacher and Andrew's in 8th grade and Joyce used to work for an architectural firm and Aaron's a pastor. But those of you who know these people know they are a whole lot more than just that, right?

Like Brandy is a kindergarten teacher, which does say a thing or to about the state of her soul. But she calls her students her "FRIENDS," and she has a wall of crosses in her house from all over the world, and she offers a great ministry of hospitality around here, making dinners for us and for the Agape ministry downtown, where we participate once a month. And Andrew Peterson is an 8th grader, but he's also a student athlete, who's thrilled to be helping lead our Palm Sunday worship next week as part of our Faith Formation class. He also has a crazy love for really expensive tennis shoes. And Joyce is also from Minnesota, she’s the Altar Guild queen around here, and she stitches all of our baptismal napkins and cooks the most delicious food and plays the piano beautifully when she thinks no one’s listening. And Aaron’s a Pastor, but please don’t ever forget that pastors have a lot more going on in their lives than what you see up here on Sunday morning. He plays the guitar and brews beer and can really, really sing. And he’s a Buckeye, too.

So I got to thinking, if we don’t take the time to see or to say what’s most important or interesting about the people we like and love, in some instances, when we introduce them; if the first, easiest, most accessible, identifying characteristics we can use to describe or introduce someone we know are so surface-level and limited, how deeply are we considering the hearts and minds and lives of people we don’t know; people we haven’t met; people the world around us would give all kinds of reason NOT to know or like or love in any meaningful way?

…which brings me, in a strange way, to our “half-truth” for the day, and the last in our series for this Lenten walk: “Love the sinner, hate the sin.”

See, I think the ease with which some of us have accepted this “half-truth” is an identity issue for Christians. We use this “half-truth” to justify a pretty simple, incomplete, uninspiring, unfaithful way to engage people in the world around us – or not. Even more, to love people in our lives or out there in the world – or not – has everything to do with how we understand ourselves – and others – fully, as children of God – or not.

And, when it comes to “loving the sinner, but hating the sin,” all of it smacks of a by-product of what we have come to call “tolerance,” in our culture. In our day and age, we pretend that the notion of “tolerance” is a good thing; a positive thing; the politically correct thing; maybe even a Christian thing, if you ascribe to today’s “half-truth.” But I’ve always hated the notion that “tolerance” – when it comes to people – is some kind of virtue. After all, who here longs to be “tolerated?”

We “tolerate” a distracting noise when we’re trying to concentrate. We “tolerate” a slow computer or a technical difficulty when we have to. We “tolerate” pain when we are sick or injured. We don’t “tolerate” people.

I mean, we shouldn’t merely “tolerate” people of color. We shouldn’t merely “tolerate” people who are Muslim or Jewish or who believe differently than we do. We shouldn’t merely “tolerate” people who are poor. We shouldn’t merely “tolerate” people whose identity, the very nature of their being, is lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, transgender, or queer. And we shouldn’t merely “tolerate” sinners, either.

People are not meant to be “tolerated,” according to Jesus. People are meant to be loved, like neighbors, and that’s a high calling for Christians who want to walk in the ways of God.

Today’s “half-truth” – “Love the sinner, hate the sin” – is a “half-truth” because it pretends to give us license to walk around looking for specks and counting the sins of others, first, while we are, all the while, so burdened and so blinded by our own specks and our own sins, that we can’t see the fullness of anyone for who they really are. What “Love the sinner, hate the sin” tempts us to do is to walk around in the world, identifying people first by their sin – or by our own arbitrary measuring stick of sinfulness – so that we – from the lofty heights of our self-righteousness – might benevolently, graciously tolerate them, in spite of it.

Good Lord is there any doubt why people are hesitant to join us for what we try to do in the world?!?!?

I did some light reading over Spring Break last week. By “light reading” I mean I read a book called The Autobiography of an Execution, written by a death penalty lawyer in Texas, and I’m in the middle of The Executioner’s Song, Norman Mailer’s 1000 page opus about the life and crimes and trial and capital punishment of Gary Gilmore.

Both authors do such detailed, in-depth, careful research and reporting about their subjects – I mean they introduce them, if you will, not first – or solely by their crimes – so that you can’t help but see – even the most guilty, heinous criminals among us – as people; people with pasts; people with problems; people with personalities and gifts, even; but people whose sins – however inexcusable by my estimation or yours – were influenced and encouraged by so many circumstances that were beyond their control, and that are too R-rated to discuss here: absent parents … astonishing poverty… and unimaginable abuse – the likes of which most of us will never know and couldn’t dream up in our worst nightmares.

What these stories… what today’s “half-truth”… what the ways of Jesus and the Cross of Calvary… all remind me is that each of us – every one of us, bespeckled though we may be – is so much more than the sum of our sins, as far as our creator is concerned.

Like so many of the other “half-truths” we’ve been dealing with the last five weeks, the antidote to this one, as far as I can see, is humility in ourselves and grace for one another.

So our challenge as followers of Jesus, is to walk around in the world still wet with the water of our baptism; water that identifies us, first, as children of God; water that invites us into a new way of life; water in which we are forgiven in all the ways we need God’s grace; and water that washes the logs from our eyes and the sins from our souls, so that we might see others as though we are looking into a mirror – not through a magnifying glass; so that we will see others as God sees us all: speckled and sinful; broken and in need; lost but loved, anyway, by the same God who created us all… loves us still… and that calls us to love others – and to mean it – in return.

Amen

"The Whole Truth of Easter"

"Half Truths: Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin" - Matthew 7:1-5