Found

John 20:1-18

“Whom are you looking for?” That is the Easter question. On this day when many people enter churches for the first time, or maybe the first time in a while- Whom are you looking for? Before the sun has fully risen, a disciple of Jesus named Mary goes looking for someone. In her grief, she isn’t looking for an answer, or for a miracle. She is looking for a grave, for a body to weep over and a place to lay down the burdens of her loss. What she finds instead is a tomb that has been opened, unsealed. When she goes back to tell the others of this insult on top of injury, Mary finds no comfort among her fellow disciples. Instead she finds disbelief and baffling competitiveness. Two disciples rush past her, racing one another. Mary follows after them, this time even more distraught then she had been in her first journey.

In this account of that first Easter morning, we see the lifecycle of faith in an incarnate tableau. Peter runs away from his shame over his own denial, and reaches the scene only to examine the evidence uncomprehendingly. The beloved disciple peers in at the same evidence and truly sees it, and believes. His belief does not provide him a full understanding, but the glowing embers of hope are reignited into flame. And Mary, left alone with her grief once more, finds herself face to face with angels. Even then, even in this divine encounter, Mary’s tear-stained eyes and broken heart cloud her vision. When the angels cannot reach her, Christ himself appears behind her. Still, her heart is hardening into hopelessness and desperation. But then she hears it. The familiar voice, calling to her by name. Her shepherd, her teacher, her Lord. Only then are Mary’s eyes opened and her faith resurrected. He sends her as we are all sent, to tell the others that he is risen, that their work is not yet done. Even the apostle to the apostles, the first person to proclaim that Christ is risen, does not fully understand. Even she tries to hold on a little longer, to tether eternity. Nevertheless, she persists in her mission. Because Mary in her grief and confusion and revelation and joy brings this impossible tale to the disciples, the story continues and the Gospel endures to this very day.

Disbelief and incomprehension. Belief, but without the substance of understanding. Faith clouded by grief and anger and pain. Doubt broken through by the strong clear voice of God. Evangelism, the natural product of Gospel joy. Wherever you find yourself in your life of faith, wherever you see yourself in this Easter morning, you are not alone here. You are in good company. You are not expected to leave yourself at the door in order to encounter Easter, nor any other moment in the life of faith. You are not expected to have it all together here, or to understand perfectly every word that is spoken or sung or prayed about God. You’re not even required to recognize God when you’re looking the Almighty square in the face, at least not at first. Whether you arrive here breathlessly or in tears, jumping for joy or shaking your head, the tomb is still empty. Christ is still risen. That news will find you and take hold of you, even if you need to run away like Peter. Even if you need a little more clarity like the beloved disciple. Even if you need to sit in the dark morning and weep over the empty and desolate places of life like Mary. The Good News is not fleeting, and our Risen Lord is a Good Shepherd who calls us each by name. He will keep calling us until we hear him, until we really see him. Whom are you looking for? You have already been found.