Matthew 28:1-10
1 After the sabbath, as the first
day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the
tomb. 2 And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord,
descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3 His
appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. 4 For fear of
him the guards shook and became like dead men. 5 But the angel said to the
women, "Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was
crucified. 6 He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the
place where he lay. 7 Then go quickly and tell his disciples, "He has been
raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you
will see him.' This is my message for you." 8 So they left the tomb
quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. 9 Suddenly
Jesus met them and said, "Greetings!" And they came to him, took hold
of his feet, and worshiped him. 10 Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be
afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."
I was sitting on the old hardwood
floor of the rent-house where we lived on North Hill Street in Enterprise. My
step-brother, Phillip, was sitting next to me. We were staring at the screen of
the console television that sat on the same floor against the wall in the
living room. With gray, plastic controllers in our hands, tethered to a
matching gray, plastic box, we were fighting each other in the imaginary
scenery of Capcom’s Street Fighter II:
Turbo (it was the only game we owned for our Super Nintendo). We were
playing that game for what I am sure was at least the hundredth time that
summer, when somewhere off in the distance there was a slow groan of thunder. I
remember trying to look out the front window to see what color the sky was, to
see if there were drops hanging in the torn metal screens. I dropped the game
controller and sort of speed walked into the kitchen where I asked my mom (as
seriously as I knew how) if the weather alert would still come on the TV over
our video game. When she said “no” I began a brief campaign of trying to
convince Phillip to switch it off so we could watch soap operas on the local
channels…you know, because that’s what adolescent boys want to do when they’re
stuck inside during the summer, watch soap operas.
Now, I wasn’t interested at all in
watching Days of Our Lives, All My
Children (which was my mom’s favorite), or any of those daytime dramas with
their almost always unbelievable plot twists. No, I wanted to be able to see
that little map of Alabama in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen. I
wanted to be able to see that little red band that came scrolling by whenever
there was a hint of bad weather on the way. You see, as a kid, I was absolutely
terrified of bad weather. I mean I had such a fear of the weather that I’d get
nervous if there was even a 30% chance of rain! I’m not really sure why I was
scared of bad weather, and I can’t remember when I stopped being scared, but it
was such a real fear for me as a young kid that it would almost paralyze me.
Fear does that to us though, doesn’t
it? It can shut us down, lock us up, stop us dead in our tracks, or even make
us do things we never thought we’d do. Fear can be a very powerful thing, and
each of us is afraid of something—even if we try to pretend we’re not, even if
we try to convince ourselves and everyone else we’re the personification of
fearlessness, we are all afraid of something.
That fear can keep us from enjoying
the life God has given, from enjoying the works of creation all around us. It’s
widely known the NFL legend John Madden has a fear of flying and hasn’t boarded
an airplane since 1979.[1]
That fear has kept him from attending and doing commentary for the NFL Pro Bowl
in Hawaii along with any other NFL game outside of North America. If Madden
can’t get their on the ground, he isn’t going. Despite having the means and the
career to do so, John Madden will never see some of the most beautiful places
on earth, and he’s missed the opportunity to call some of the most memorable
plays in the history of the NFL. Why? Because of fear.
While fear can keep us from doing
things we want, it can also keep us from doing that which we know is right. In
October of last year, a blind man was walking down the street in Philadelphia
when he was suddenly attacked by another man passing by. While the blind mas
was being assaulted, repeatedly kicked and punched while he lay on the ground
in broad daylight, several other people simply walked by the incident without
so much as a word. No one intervened while the helpless man was being beaten.[2]
Psychologists refer to this phenomenon as “the bystander effect.”[3]
Put simply, the more bystanders there are at the scene of an event (in this
case, an assault) the less likely it is that someone will intervene. This is
due partly to a dispersed sense of responsibility, and also to our fear of
acting contrary to the crowd. Fear can keep us from doing the right thing.
Along those same lines, fear can
keep us from loving each other the way God calls us to love each other. On a
Sunday morning in September of 1970, Twila Fortune and her mother decided to
join the church they had been attending for some time. They filled out
membership cards, came forward to join the church, and then waited for the
church to officially vote on their membership. A majority of the members of the
First Baptist Church of Birmingham, however, voted against letting Twila and
her mother join. Why? Because they were black, it was 1970, and for a church in
Birmingham, Alabama to do such a thing in those days would have likely drawn
attention, caused rumors to swirl, and brought the criticism of those who still
hoped for a return to segregation. While 250 people did the right thing in
showing God’s love and standing up for Twila and her mother, they left the
church. Those former members of First Baptist Church formed what is now The
Baptist Church of the Covenant (one of our sister churches in Alabama CBF).[4]
The fear of change kept one congregation from loving even those who had been in
their midst for some time.
Fear also keeps us from loving God. It’s
the theologically fashionable thing to do in some circles of evangelicalism
today, to emphasize the “fear of God,” to highlight those stories that speak of
God’s grand power to shake the earth and to wipe out armies with the blast of
His celestial nostrils. It’s become popular to speak of the God who can end our
lives with little effort, to preach of a God who threatens us with the wrath-soaked
pit of hell that waits for those who step one toe out of line. This was the God
the Reformer Martin Luther came to know as an Augustinian monk, as a priest. In
fact, Luther was so terrified of this God, the story goes, that during his
first mass as a priest he could not utter the words of blessing when it came
time for the Eucharist. Luther’s fear of God was so real that he confessed that
he did not love God, for he could not love a God that seemed to only be waiting
to judge him and send him to hell. It was only after Luther began to understand
the love of God—not only the judgment of God—that his heart turned and he
became the great theologian and reformer we know him as today. Fear almost kept
Luther from believing in and loving God altogether.
Fear is powerful, and one can only
imagine the kind of fear possessed by those two women named Mary as they walked
to the tomb in the pale, cool air of that early Sunday morning. To think these women were fearless is to
misunderstand the situation. After all, they were followers, disciples of
Jesus; they had left everything behind in order to follow him. Their lives had
been forever changed when Jesus crossed their paths, and now, after witnessing
his horrific death, what could they do? Could they go back to their families,
back their homes? Would they be welcomed or labeled as outcasts, fools who
hitched their wagons to a dead messiah? What about those who put Jesus to
death: would they seek out those who followed him in order to execute similar
judgment? Were their lives at stake now? All the men who had followed Jesus
were gone—at least they didn’t come with these women. What did that have to say
to them about their situation? What kind of fear did it take to keep even
someone like Peter from coming to the tomb that morning, to keep these men who
had shared a last supper with Jesus from being there when he breathed his last?
One can only imagine the kind of fear that gripped the heart of these women as
they made their way to the tomb.
One can only imagine the fear that
must have come over them when the ground started to tremble, then violently
shake. We’re told in verses 2 and 3: “suddenly there was a great earthquake; for
an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone
and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as
snow.” Now, for some of us, the thought of an angel appearing sounds
downright wonderful. I can remember my maternal grandmother and her fascination
with angels in her later years; there were pictures of motherly looking beings
in long, white gowns with soft, blond hair and wings on their backs, plates
hanging on the walls with fat, nearly-naked babies fluttering like bumble bees
with their tiny angel wings. Those are the kinds of images I imagine come to
mind for most of us when we think of angels: nice, cute, warm beings that have
come to protect us or guide us or give us a message from grandma on the other
side. But that isn’t the ancient understanding at all! While angels were
messengers from God the message they often brought was that of death or
destruction. Couple that with an earthquake and an gigantic stone simply
rolling back from the entrance to a tomb, it shouldn’t surprise us that Matthew
tells us verse 4, “For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men.”
Here is another source of fear for
these women, yet the angel says to them in verse
5 through 7, “Do not be afraid; I
know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he
has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He
has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee;
there you will see him.' This is my message for you." “Do not be
afraid.” Perhaps those words are easier said than done, yet the angel gives the
women the good news of Jesus’ resurrection, invites them to see it with their
own eyes, and then sends them on to share the news with the rest of the disciples,
to tell them to go on to Galilee. But we get the impression that their
collective fear has not fully subsided, because Matthew tells us in verse 8, “So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran
to tell his disciples.”
There is still a lingering fraction of fear. They’ve witnessed angelic
power, laid eyes on the vacant tomb, received a command from a messenger of
God, and still there is a hint of fear in their hearts. Why wouldn’t there be?
Would any of us be free of such fear after experiencing all that these women
had gone through? Would any of us be free of the lingering fear that this
angelic experience might be another misdirection, another command that will
only lead down another road of disappointment, maybe even death? After all,
while they may have seen what they believed to be an angel, and while they may
have viewed an empty tomb, would that be enough to convince a jury of disciples
that Jesus was indeed alive? What if the others didn’t believe them when they
got back? They’re still not out of the woods of fear just yet, but then
something happens, something casts out every ounce of fear they may have still
carried.
“Suddenly Jesus met them and said, ‘Greetings!’ And they came to him,
took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be
afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.’"
The women meet Jesus on the way. They are so certain that it is him that they
take hold of his feet and even worship him! And what are Jesus’ first words
after greeting these two women? “Do not be afraid.” Jesus knew that these women
still carried fear with them and in his first post-resurrection command he
calls them to lay aside their fear. Because fear can be a very powerful thing
in our lives; it can be the kind of thing that keeps us from hearing the voice
of the resurrected Lord.
Christ’s words for those women on that first Easter morning were “Do not
be afraid,” and this Easter morning he has those same words for us: “Do not be
afraid.” Whatever it is that you may fear, know that there is power in the
resurrection of Christ to overcome that fear. Perhaps your fear can be found in
the reality of death, the seemingly inescapable truth that life ends and what
lies beyond is unknown and mysterious. Do not be afraid, because the Christ who
is alive today is the same Christ who called forth Lazarus from the grave and
who himself walked out a tomb to leave his grave clothes behind.
Perhaps your fear is rooted in the unseen, the unknown, the inexplicable;
maybe you’re afraid of those things that are out of your control. Do not be
afraid, because the same Jesus who gave site to a man born blind is the same
Jesus who gives you eyes to see and ears to hear all that God has for you and
all that God calls you to do. The Savior who is resurrected in glorious power
and mystery is the same Savior who will make all things new.
Perhaps you fear that which is different, those situations or people who
are different from you, situations and people you don’t fully understand. Maybe
you’re afraid of them because accepting them, loving them, will mean you’ll
have to change yourself. Do not be afraid, for the God who sat and talked with
an outcast woman by a well in a different place like Samaria is the same God
who rose up from the grave for all people—all races, ages, nations, genders,
and dispositions, ALL PEOPLE—regardless of how different, how strange they may
seem to us or how uncomfortable they may make us feel. That same God grants us
love and the Holy Spirit to overcome our prejudices, our fears, so that we may
love our neighbors as ourselves.
Perhaps your fear is found in your relation to God. Perhaps, like that
man who came to Jesus by night, you are hesitant, maybe even a bit ashamed, to
show your love for God in a world where such love is poorly defined, in a
context where perhaps such love is unrecognized or even unwelcome. Do not be
afraid, for the Teacher who spoke to Nicodemus and called him to new birth from
above is the same Teacher who calls you to new birth from above. The same
Christ that called Nicodemus out of the dark cover of night is the same Christ
that calls you to come out of the darkness of fear, shame, and doubt and to
step into the light of faith, hope, and love.
This Easter, this Resurrection morning, may you hear the first,
resurrected words of Christ, “Do not be afraid,” and may you take them to
heart. May you allow the perfect love of God to cast out all the fear that may
weigh your spirit down. May you let go of the fear that keeps you from loving
God and your neighbor as yourself. May you hear the Good News that Christ is
risen and not be afraid.
Let us pray…
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