In my life, the amount of hope I find Easter morning has always been related to the depth of the Lenten journey before. The glorious Sunday morn is not possible without the nights of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.

Two Easters ago, the reality of the pandemic truly hit the church. And if you look at Lent through the lens of giving something up, it can feel as if we’ve had two years of Lenten fasting from normalcy.

Even an accidental glance at the news gives us a sense of foreboding: smaller tragedies like the shootings in New York, or epic tragedies like another alarming climate report. Tectonic shifts are happening in our world, at speeds we did not think possible. Our world politics changed in a matter of days with the Ukraine invasion.

Our institutions are not designed to be in constant crisis. I sometimes feel as if nobody is talking about these transformations, but maybe it’s that our conversations and processing can’t keep up when we’re blinded and exhausted by the next horrible headline.

Lately, it’s been hard to be church. Lately, it’s hard to be alive.

The Easter message comes to us at a time when we most need it. Whenever there’s darkness, or despair, or death, Jesus steps into those places.

The women at the tomb are terrified into silence at what they see. Their only response is to flee. Yet after that initial shock, we also hear they are called to action. They are to tell the disciples the Good News. Jesus is ahead of us, and we are to follow him on a new road.

We are not meant to be silently afraid, and stay in the place of darkness. As disciples, we don’t get to be spectators. We are definitely not called to play it safe or not make waves. We are immediately called to step into the game and be active in God’s world.

In Easter, we find a new call to action in the emptiness of a frightening place: a tomb. In the emptiness, we see Jesus is risen. Outside the tomb, throughout the entirety of the world, we know there is new life in Christ.

I pray that the promise of Easter accompanies you as we move into a new and becoming world. I pray that every morning you awaken to find a day big enough to fit God’s kingdom. I pray that your ministry—the one-on-one interactions of your waking hours—be full of the spirit of courageous discipleship.

God does good through you,

The Rev. Deborah K. Hutterer
Bishop
Grand Canyon Synod of the ELCA