Watch the video below to view a preview of my Easter reflections.

https://1drv.ms/v/s!ArI93Gt9eFRcgYEuGvau_-P2lh6igw?e=el3HW6

Today, I carry my grief to the tomb.

Grief as I remember my mother and my sister.
Grief as I stay home and miss visits with my father.
Grief for those locked down in nursing homes or assisted living facilities and the families who cannot see them.
Grief for those without work and for those who work in places of fear or danger. 
Grief because I cannot see each of you in the flesh and welcome you with a smile or a touch. 
Grief for those who have died and those who are dying—so often alone.
Grief for the funerals and goodbyes that are not being said.
Grief.

The only way through grief is through it.  There are no short cuts.  Detours bring us back to the same place.  There is no statute of limitations on grief.  Grief returns. 

The psalmist sang, “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.”  We are walking through the valley of the shadow of death.

Uncertainty is the way.  Love is the way. Resurrection and rebirth are the way.

There were no trumpets, no songs, no Easter lilies or Easter baskets on that first Easter. There were women in grief who got up early to do the impossible.  They went to the tomb even though they knew that they would be unable to roll away the stone. Yet still they went.

I have no idea how to pastor a church in a time of pandemic.  I know how to show up, how to open my arms, how to listen.  Not only do I not know how to create fancy facebook posts, upload video, or adjust the microphone on Skype, but I struggle to walk in the place of not knowing how I will roll away the stone. I make the mistake of thinking that I need to be the one to roll away the stone.

This Easter, we walk (apart) together in the place of not knowing and of not understanding—the place of fear and amazement.

I suppose it is always that way.  Even as we gather in the churches, we always come with our doubts and our fears.  This year, our uncertainty and the presence of death is obvious.  This year, some of the trappings (sanctuary, organ, lilies) have been stripped away forcing us to search for and lean on the essence of our faith.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he [the young man dressed in a white robe] said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’”

Mark 15:6-7

We join the women to search for the risen Christ in the pandemic.  We join the women in fear and trembling to first find Jesus and then preach Jesus and his love.   

On Easter Day, the women encountered the angel.  “Jesus is Risen,” they were told.  “Go and tell his disciples and Peter.”  Even though Peter had denied Jesus three times, the women were given specific instructions to seek Peter out.  Even though we may have denied Jesus over and over again, God includes us, just as God reached out deliberately to Peter.

On Easter, particularly Easter in the midst of the Corona Virus, we hold two seemingly contradictory premises. 

First, Christ is Risen.  Risen Indeed. Alleluia! 

Second, “Wait!  What?  “Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.”

We hold both the certainty and bewilderment.

Just as we cannot will grief away but instead must sit with it, neither can we shortcut our own fears, our own confusion, and our own terror.  Fear, terror, and confusion are part of the resurrection. 

Transformation and rebirth are hard work.  God’s promise is not that we will not encounter death or fear but that God is with us in the times of death and fear.  “Yea though I walk THROUGH the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou are with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”

God is with us in this pandemic.  Right here.  Sharing bread. We were never promised an easy road.  We were promised companionship on the journey.  Jesus is with us in the garden, on boat when the seas are rough, on the cross, at the table.

This pandemic, is stripping away so many illusions.  About health.  About security. About safety. About economics. About how to be a family or community or church.  It is forcing us to see our lives through new eyes and to grapple with what really matters.

We live the resurrection as we face each day with love, courage and hope. 

We live the resurrection as we discover ways to love one another from afar.

We live the resurrection when we go to the places of death with love.

We live in resurrection as we live with hope and joy in the midst of all that we do not know about what the future may hold.

We live in resurrection when we join the women at the tomb ready to anoint Jesus even as we have no idea how the stone may be rolled away.

Christ is risen!  Alleluia.  Amen.