Sunday, April 12, 2026

Today's Worship Service - Sunday, April 12, 2026


Worship Service for April 12, 2026

Prelude

Announcements:  

Call to Worship

L:      Christ our Savior is risen from the dead!  Alleluia!

P:      Break forth into joy!  Sing together!  God comforts those whose hearts are broken in sorrow.

L:      We who once suffered in death, we who once cried in despair –

P:      Now we know victory over death!  Now we know joy over despair!

L:      For God has raised Christ from the grave.

All:   The tomb is empty and death has been defeated for all the earth!

 

Opening Hymn –   Thine is the Glory           #122 Blue Hymnal

Prayer of Confession

Gracious God, we confess before You our slowness to embrace the new life You offer.  You offer springtime to our souls, but we prefer the winter of coldness and indifference.  We continue in despair and self-doubt, rather than rejoicing in knowing You love us.  We forget that we have been baptized into the death and resurrection of Christ.  Afraid to die, we cannot receive new life.  Rejoicing that You forgive us, with our coldness, self-hate, forgetfulness, or fear, we pray to You with the confidence of Your children.  (Silent prayers are offered)  AMEN.

Assurance of Pardon

L:      For all who have come believing in Christ as the Way, there is rest from your fruitless labors, forgiveness of your sins and the guarantee of eternal life.

P:      Let us then continue our journey of faith and obedience, through the grace of Jesus Christ.  AMEN!

 

Gloria Patri

Affirmation of Faith/Apostles’ Creed

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Ghost, the holy catholic Church; the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.  AMEN

 

Pastoral Prayer and Lord’s Prayer

Risen Christ, who comes to us even when the doors are locked and our hearts are uncertain, we gather in the quiet glow of Easter’s lingering light.  Last week we shouted alleluia; today we come again—some with bold faith, others with lingering doubt, all of us in need of your presence.

Breathe your peace upon us.  As you stood among the disciples and said, “Peace be with you,” speak that same word into our lives—into our anxious thoughts, our weary bodies, our divided communities.  Where fear has settled in, stir courage.  Where grief still lingers, bring comfort.  Where hope feels fragile, strengthen it with resurrection power.

Patient Savior, you did not turn away Thomas in his questioning, but met him in it with grace.  Meet us there too—in our wondering, our skepticism, our desire to see and touch and know that new life is real.  Hold our doubts gently until they become deeper faith, and help us to trust even when we cannot yet see.

Living Lord, you send us as you were sent—into a world still marked by brokenness and longing.  Make us bearers of your peace: in our homes, in our neighborhoods, in our work, in places of conflict and in quiet moments of need.  Let our lives proclaim what our lips confess: that death does not have the final word, and love is stronger than fear.

We pray for your church, that we may be a community of the resurrection—welcoming, forgiving, courageous, and alive.  We pray for those who suffer this day: the sick, the grieving, the lonely, the oppressed.  Stand among them as you stood among your friends, and let your peace take root where pain has been.  We especially pray today for…

 

And now, in this time of quiet rest, hear our innermost prayers that we cannot say aloud…

 

And as we continue this Easter journey, keep shaping us into people who recognize you in our midst—in the sharing of stories and the quiet assurance that you are still alive and at work.  We offer all of this in the name of the Risen One, who still comes, still speaks, and still sends us forth, praying together… Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy name.  Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread.  Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.  AMEN.

 

Hymn –  Jesus Shall Reign   Hymn #423/375   485/56  4 vs.

Scripture Reading(s): 

First Scripture Reading – Psalm 16

Second Scripture Reading – John 20:19-31

Sermon –  The Transformative Encounter with the Risen Christ

(based on John 20:19-31)

 

Today’s New Testament passage from John 20 begins on that first Easter evening when the disciples were huddled in a locked room, gripped by fear.  They had just witnessed the arrest and crucifixion of Jesus, and now they were unsure of what the future held.  Rumors are swirling.  Mary has just told them that she has seen the Lord.  The atmosphere was thick with anxiety and uncertainty—an experience many of us can resonate with today.  The disciples are not out proclaiming the good news.  They are not out singing alleluias, like we did last week.  Instead, they are huddled together, hiding, trying to make sense of it all.

I think we often find ourselves like the disciples behind closed doors, figuratively speaking.  Perhaps it’s the fear of the unknown, that things are changing around us too fast, the stress of financial instability, or even the emotional turmoil from broken relationships.  When we shut ourselves in, we isolate our fears and doubts, thinking that we are alone in our struggles.  Yet, in that locked room, something miraculous occurred.

Without knowing, without warning, Jesus comes and stands among them.  The doors are still locked.  The fear is still real.  But Jesus is there.  Just as Jesus appeared to His fearful disciples, He desires to meet us in our places of vulnerability and uncertainty.  Are we open to recognizing His presence in our lives?  Are we willing to let Him into our fears?

The first words out of his mouth aren’t correction, not disappointment, not, “Where were you?”  “Why are you hiding here?”  But rather he says, “Peace be with you.”  In the midst of their chaos, He brings peace, a profound sense of calm in the storm.  They know this calm.  He’s provided it before.  In the midst of a real storm, He calmed the wind, and settled the turbulent seas.  This greeting is not merely a salutation but an expression of His desire to settle and restore their shattered hearts.

Imagine the w eight that was lifted from the disciples’ shoulders as they see their Lord standing before them.  They went from despair to joy in an instant.  Jesus understood their doubts and fears, and instead of rebuking them, He comforts them from the very outset.

This is the essence of our faith, isn’t it?  Believing that in the middle of all the fear and chaos and turmoil, Christ extends His peace.  Calming the storm that rages around us and bringing joy to our hearts.  How often do we forget to seek out that peace?   In times of anxiety or decision-making, let us remember to turn first to the Lord, inviting His presence into our lives.

And yet, at the same time, Jesus doesn’t wait for the disciples to unlock the door.  He doesn’t wait for them to get their courage together.  He doesn’t say, ‘When you’re ready, come find me.”  He comes to them.  So many of us believe that we have to get ourselves together before God shows up.  We think we need to get rid of our doubts, clean up our lives, fix our own brokenness, unlock our fears.  We just need to be open to the possibility of God showing up and He is there.

He meets us in those locked rooms.  In the room of grief you have processed yet.  In the room of anxiety you can’t explain.  In the room of doubt that you’re afraid to name out loud.  It is into those rooms that Christ shows up and says, “Peace be with you.”

After he speaks peace, Jesus shows them his hands and his side.  This is not incidental, it’s essential.  The risen Christ still bears the wounds.

Resurrection does not erase the story of suffering—it transforms it. The marks of violence, the evidence of pain, the scars of betrayal—they don’t just go away.  They are not hidden.  Instead, they are revealed.  They show where we’ve been, they tell our story, they prove that we are unique and individual.  In showing them, Jesus is saying: “This is still me.”  The one who was crucified is the one who is risen.  I still bear the wounds, the scars, the story of suffering.  The one who suffered is the one who stands before you in peace.

We live in a world that wants to hide wounds.  To move on quickly.  To pretend everything is fine.  But the gospel tells a different story: healing does not mean pretending we were never hurt.  It means that our wounds no longer have the final word.  That what we’ve been through is real, but it will not be the last of us.

Jesus’ scars become signs of life, not defeat.  And in the same way, the places in our lives where we have been broken—those places can become the very places where grace is most visible.

Following His greeting of peace, Jesus commissions His disciples, saying, “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”  This is the pivotal moment in the gospel record.  For the disciples move from being fearful followers to empowered witnesses.  Jesus is not only restoring their faith but he is giving it a direction for a greater purpose.

He breathes the Holy Spirit onto them, granting them authority and responsibility.  This moment shifts the narrative from passive waiting and waiting in fear to active engagement in the world with joy and wonder.  He doesn’t give them a test.  They don’t have to prove that they’ve gotten everything right.  Christ sends them as they are.  “Receive the Holy Spirit.” He says.  This breath echoes the very beginning of creation when God breathes life into the world.  This is new creation language and action.  Resurrection is not just about Jesus, it’s about the renewal of the whole world, beginning with these fragile, fearful disciples.

What does this commissioning look like for us?  It could be volunteering for a variety of different ministries, speaking out against injustice, or simply being the light in our workplaces and in our friends’ lives.  Our faith should propel us into action.

Enter Thomas, one of the twelve disciples, who wasn’t present when Jesus first appeared.  When the others share their experience, his skeptical response reflects a deeply human reaction: “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, I will not believe.”

Thomas often gets labeled “the doubter,” but let’s be honest—he is also the truth-teller.  He refuses secondhand faith.  He refuses to pretend certainty that he does not feel.  And Jesus does not reject him for that.

Thomas' doubt isn't an isolated incident; it exemplifies the struggle many of us face in our faith journeys.  In a world filled with uncertainty, doubt often creeps in, challenging our beliefs and trust in God.

Rather than condemning doubt, we should acknowledge it as a natural part of our faith journey.  God invites our questions, our struggles, and our search for understanding.  Like Thomas, we are encouraged to seek whatever evidence we need.

A week later, Jesus appears again, same greeting, “Peace be with you.”  And He turns directly to Thomas inviting him to touch the wounds in His hands and side.  “Put your finger here.  See my hands.  Reach out your hand and put it in my side.”  Jesus meets Thomas exactly where he is.  In that moment of intimate connection, Thomas declares, “My Lord and my God!”  This declaration exemplifies a profound acknowledgment of Jesus not just as a teacher or healer but as Lord—the One deserving of our utmost devotion.

This story of Thomas and Jesus is not about shaming doubt – it’s about honoring the journey of faith that we each take.  Doubt can be the place where faith grows deeper, more honest, more real.  Jesus is not afraid of your questions.  He is not threatened by your uncertainty.  He doesn’t withdraw when you struggle to believe.  Instead, Christ comes closer.  He invites you to see.  To touch.  To wrestle.  To know.  And in that encounter, change begins and Thomas sees, knows, and believes.

Jesus responds to Thomas, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Here, across the eons of time, Christ speaks directly to us, praising those who trust in Him without the need for tangible evidence.

It challenges us to embrace faith beyond the visible.  We may not always see God’s hand at work in our circumstances, yet we are called to trust His promises.  How can we cultivate a faith that sees beyond our immediate perceptions, especially in difficult times?

John concludes this passage by stating that the miracles of Jesus were written so that we may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing, we may have life in His name. This is the core of our Christian experience—faith that brings life, meaning, and purpose.

As we walk through our lives, let us remember that we, too, are a part of this narrative.  Our doubts, fears, and victories intertwine with the ancient story of Christ’s resurrection.

Today, let’s commit to a faith that isn’t flawless but is authentic and engaged.  Let us not be content with simply hearing about Jesus’ peace or power; let us experience it in our lives.  As we journey forward, may we represent Christ’s love and hope, making Him known in every corner of our lives.

Because we, too, are called to be agents of change and ambassadors of Christ in our communities.  We, too, are being sent out, not because we are perfect, but because we are called.  We are being sent out, not because we have no doubts, but because we have encountered grace.  We are being sent out to carry peace into a world that desperately needs it.

Thanks be to God.

AMEN.

Offertory –

Doxology –

Prayer of Dedication –

Generous and faithful God, every good gift comes from you, and in gratitude we return a portion of what we have received.  Bless these offerings—not only the gifts we place before you, but the time, compassion, and courage we carry into the world.  Multiply them in ways we cannot yet see, so that your love may be known, your justice made real, and your grace extended to all.  Use us and these gifts for your purposes, that we may be living signs of your resurrection hope.  In the name of Christ, we pray.  AMEN.

Closing Hymn – He Lives                              Hymn #368 Brown

Benediction

         May the risen Lord meet you in your doubts, strengthen your faith, and send you out with courage and hope.  Go now into the world as people of the resurrection—carrying the peace of Christ into every place of fear and uncertainty.  AMEN

Postlude

Sunday, April 5, 2026

Today's Worship Service - Easter Sunday, April 5, 2026

 

Worship Service for April 5, 2026

Prelude

Announcements:  

Call to Worship

L:      Why do you look for the living among the dead?  He is not here; the Lord has risen!

P:      He has risen indeed!

L:      The Lord has risen!

P:      He has risen indeed!

L:      Where, O death, is your victory?  Where, O death, is your sting?  Death has been swallowed up in victory!

P:      Christ has risen indeed!

L:      Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life.  He who believes in me will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.”

P:      Thanks be to God!  He gives us the victory through Jesus Christ our Lord.

L:      The Lord is risen!

P:      He has risen indeed!  Alleluia!

 

Opening Hymn –   Jesus Christ is Risen Today          #123 Blue Hymnal

Prayer of Confession

God of resurrection and new life, we come before You on this Easter morning with hearts both hopeful and honest.  You have rolled away the stone, yet we confess that we still live as though death has the final word.  You have called us into the light, yet we cling to the shadows of fear, doubt, and despair.  Risen Christ, You meet us in the garden of our grief, and still we fail to recognize You.  You speak our names with love, and still we turn away to follow the familiar voices of this world.  We confess that we have not trusted Your promise of new life.  We have settled for what is safe instead of what is faithful.  We have held on to anger instead of embracing forgiveness.  We have chosen silence in the face of injustice, and comfort over compassion.  Break open the tombs we build around our hearts.  Call us again by name, that we may hear Your voice and turn toward You.  By Your grace, renew us.  By Your Spirit, raise us.  By Your love, send us to live as witnesses to the resurrection, to embody hope where there is despair, and to proclaim with our lives that Christ is risen indeed.  (Silent prayers are offered)  AMEN.

Assurance of Pardon

L:      What a day!  Easter Day!  God’s dawn of new hope, new mercy, new life.

P:      On this first day and every day, we can walk as God’s people, forgiven and made whole.  Thanks be to God.  AMEN!

 

Gloria Patri

Affirmation of Faith/Apostles’ Creed

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Ghost, the holy catholic Church; the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.  AMEN

 

Pastoral Prayer and Lord’s Prayer

Lord of mystery and marvels, You have walked with us on this Lenten journey.  You have seen how we have responded to those whom Jesus encountered along the path.  We have heard their stories and have seen their pain.  We have witnessed the love that Jesus offered to them and the miracles that have taken place in their lives.  Now we gather on this brilliant day in a place filled with candles and flowers, where the music soars and the spirits of all are lifted in joy.  Be with us again, reminding us that the journey to the cross does not end in death, but becomes a road of joy.  Lift our hearts and our spirits to sing your praises in gratitude for all that you have done for us.  

Be with our loved ones whom we have named this morning.  They need to feel Your presence in their lives to bring hope and healing.  We especially prayer for…

And now in this time of silence we offer You our heartfelt prayers.

Let the light of Jesus Christ shine on us, in us, and through us as witness to your resurrected glory and love for us praying together.… Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy name.  Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread.  Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.  AMEN.

 

Hymn –  To God Be the Glory   Hymn # 91   485/56  Blue Hymnal 3vs

Scripture Reading(s): 

First Scripture Reading – Jeremiah 31:1-6

Second Scripture Reading – Matthew 28:1-10 and John 20:1-18

Sermon –  Just Before Dawn
(based on Matthew 28:1–10 and John 20:1–18)

Early in the morning, before the world has fully awake, before the noise of the day begins to crowd in, there is a kind of fragile quiet that feels almost holy.  It is my own favorite time of the day.  It is in that space—between darkness and dawn, after the deadly quiet of the night that resurrection first begins to speak with the singing of the birds.

Matthew tells us it was “toward the dawn.”  While John writes that it was “still dark.”  And maybe that is the first truth Easter gives us: resurrection does not wait for full light.  It begins in the half-light, in the uncertainty, in the spaces where we are not yet sure what God is doing.

Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb carrying tremendous grief.  It is a grief she knows.  The other Mary (we are not told which one as there are many Mary’s in the gospels) but this one walks beside her, also carrying sorrow that has possibly not yet found language.  Grief is that one emotion that is sometimes so difficult to find language for, it is the one that resides in our bodies, our minds, and our souls that sometimes has no place to land, it just stirs around looking for meaning, looking for answers where none can be found.  Whether we see the story through the telling of Matthew or the telling of John these two women or just Mary Magdalene are not expecting resurrection.  They are expecting to tend to death. They are doing what we so often do; they are trying to make peace with what feels final.

And then Matthew tells us that the earth shakes.

Not just metaphorically, but literally—Matthew says there was a great earthquake.  The stone is rolled away.  We often think that the stone was rolled away so that Jesus could exit.  But no, it was rolled away to reveal that the tomb was already empty, for the Mary’s and later the disciple so see in.  The angel speaks: “Do not be afraid.”  We’ve heard these words before when we heard the Christmas story.  These words seem to accompany every messenger from heaven.  It is always the first word. Do you remember?  “Do not be afraid” the angel said to Mary, the mother of Jesus.  “Do not be afraid” the angel said to Joseph.  “Do not be afraid” the angel said to the shepherds.  And here, once again, “Do not be afraid” the angel said to the women.  It is not an explanation.  It is not proof of any kind, but rather a simple calming of the soul, “Do not be afraid.”

And still, even with the angel’s words, they leave the tomb with fear and great joy.  Both at the same time.  Because revelations from heaven rarely come to us neatly packaged.  It comes tangled with our questions, our doubts, our trembling hope.

John’s telling lingers even longer in that confusion.  Mary stands outside the tomb weeping; her grief becomes tears of pain.  She does not recognize the revelation, this resurrection even when it is standing right in front of her for she mistakes Jesus for the gardener.

And if we’re honest, we do that too.  We look for God in the spectacular, in the undeniable, in the fully illuminated moment.  But revelation and resurrection often comes disguised—in ordinary voices, in unexpected encounters, in moments we almost miss.  It is only when Jesus speaks her name—“Mary”—that everything shifts.  We know when our loved one speaks, we know the sound of their voice, we know the timber of there inflections.  Resurrection is not just about an empty tomb.  It is also about recognition.  It’s about being known, called, seen.

I think about a story from not too long ago.  A friend of mine had lost his job unexpectedly.  Decades of work, gone in a single meeting.  He told me that the hardest part was not the loss of income, it was the loss of identity.  He said, “I don’t know who I am anymore.”  For weeks, he lived in that in-between space.  That space when it was still dark, but somewhere toward the dawn, maybe, but not there yet.

And then one afternoon, another friend of our called him.  Not with solutions.  Not with a job offer.  But someone who just called to say, “I know the work that you’ve done.  I know who you are.  But you’re more than just what you do.”  It wasn’t necessarily a dramatic statement.  There was no earthquake.  No angel descending.  But wheat he told me was that, “Something shifted in me that day.  It was like I could breathe again.  I am seen, known, understood, and I’m more than what I do.”  He was so caught in the moment of being defined but what he did, that he couldn’t see anything else.

Revelation and resurrection doesn’t always look like everything is fixed.  Sometimes it looks like being called by name, known for who you are, not what you do, in the middle of what feels like an ending.  In hearing Jesus call her name, Mary’s grief shifted.  It shifted from an inner longing to an outward calling.  She was told by Jesus to go and tell the other disciples that he has risen.

In Matthew’s telling, the women are told to go and tell the others.  And as they go, Jesus meets them on the road.  Not at the tomb.  Not in the place of death, but rather on the way.  On the journey.  And for Matthew’s telling, that matters because we are often waiting for resurrection to meet us in the places where things fell apart.  We want it to undo the loss, to reverse the ending.  But so often, resurrection meets us not in going backward to the past, but in moving forward, on the road, in the next step, in the courage to keep going, even when we do not yet understand.

I’ve read this story multiple times over many years; a teacher who notices a student slowly withdrawing.  At one point this bright kid, once engaged, was now quiet, distant, turning in work late or not at all.  It would have been easy to write him off as unmotivated.  But instead, the teacher pulled him aside and said, “You don’t seem like yourself.  What’s going on?”  At first there was nothing as a way of explanation, just a shrug and silence.  But over time, the story came out.  There were family struggles, instability at home, nights without sleep.  The teacher couldn’t fix any of that and knew that she couldn’t.  But she kept showing up for the boy.  She made space.  She listened.  She reminded him, again and again, that he mattered.

Years later, that student would say, “I don’t know where I’d be if someone hadn’t seen me.”  That is resurrection work.  It isn’t always dramatic.  It rarely makes headlines.  It is the quiet, persistent act of calling life out of places where death has tried to take hold.

As mentioned earlier as told in the gospel of John, Mary hears her name, and everything changes. “Rabbouni!” she says.  Teacher.  He sees her.  He holds that space for her.  He calls her to tell her she matters.  And in the calling, she recognizes him, not because the circumstances are suddenly clear, but because the relationship is restored.  And Jesus sends her.  “Go to my brothers and say to them…”

The first preacher of the resurrection is Mary Magdalene.  A woman whose testimony would not have been considered valid in her time.  And yet, she is entrusted with the most important message in the history of our faith.  Because resurrection has a way of upending not just death, but the systems and assumptions we have built around it.  It says those you have overlooked will lead.  Those you have silenced will speak.  Those you have dismissed will carry good news.

So, what does this mean for us, here and now?  It means that this holy resurrection of Christ is not just something we celebrate—it is something we participate in.  Every time we refuse to let despair have the final word, we are practicing resurrection.  Every time we call someone by name when the world has reduced them to a label, we are practicing resurrection.  Every time we choose connection over isolation, hope over cynicism, love over fear—we are stepping into the life that Easter proclaims.

But me be clear: resurrection does not erase the wounds.  When Jesus appears to his disciples later, he still bears the marks of crucifixion. Resurrection is not about pretending that suffering did not happen.  It is about God bringing life through it.

The tomb is empty, but this story is not.  And neither are ours.  So maybe today, you find yourself in the “still dark” part of the story.  Maybe you are standing outside something that feels like a tomb; grieving, uncertain, not yet able to see what God is doing.  If that is you, hear this: resurrection has already begun.  You may not recognize it yet.  You may mistake it for something ordinary.  You may need to hear the birds singing or your name spoken before you see it clearly.  But it is there.

The good news of Easter is not just that Jesus is risen.  It is that life is stronger than death.  Love is stronger than fear.  And God is not finished with any of us, yet.

And so we go, like Mary.  Not with all the answers.  Not with everything figured out.  But with a story to tell: “I have seen the Lord.” 

Sometimes that seeing looks like an empty tomb.  Sometimes it looks like a voice calling your name.  And sometimes, it looks like the quiet, persistent unfolding of hope in places you thought were finished.

So, go.  Go into your lives, your communities, your relationships.  Go into the still-dark places and the just-breaking dawn.  Go and look for resurrection; not only in what is spectacular, but in what is tender, and fragile, and unfolding.  And when you see it, when you hear your name, when you feel that shift, when life begins again where you thought it could not; tell your story.  Tell how God is breaking through to you, even if that breaking through is messy and not yet complete. 

The world, the people around you, are waiting to hear it because whether you know it or not, whether you recognize it or not; they are there, too.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Offertory –

Doxology –

Prayer of Dedication –

Risen Christ, with joy we bring these gifts before you; offerings of our lives, our labor, and our love.  As You turned sorrow into resurrection hope, take what we give and transform it for the healing of the world.  Use us, O God, as witnesses to your new life that through our giving, others may see the light of Easter dawn.  In gratitude and praise, we dedicate all to You.  AMEN.

Closing Hymn – Crown Him with Many Crowns        Hymn #45 Brown

Benediction

         Go forth in joy! Let your voices ring with victory; for Christ is Risen! Happy Easter!  AMEN.

Postlude

Today's Lenten Devotion - Easter Sunday, April 5, 2026

 Easter Sunday – April 5, 2026

Scripture: Luke 24:1–12

Why do you seek the living among the dead?

The stone is rolled away. The women arrive expecting death and encounter astonishment. Fear turns to proclamation.

Resurrection interrupts despair. It vindicates mercy. It exposes violence as temporary. It declares that love is stronger than death.

All Lent has moved toward this morning.

Reconciliation is real. Justice is not futile. Surrender is not wasted. Dry bones live. Seeds bear fruit. Servants rise.

Christ is risen.

Resurrection does not erase scars; it transforms them. It does not deny Good Friday; it redeems it.

We are resurrection people now—called to live boldly, love courageously, forgive persistently, and hope defiantly.

Dream again.

The tomb is empty.

Reflection Questions

1.     Where have I been seeking life among dead things?

2.     How does resurrection renew courage?

3.     What dream is God raising in us now?

Saturday, April 4, 2026

Today's Lenten Devotion - Saturday, April 4, 2026

 Holy Saturday – April 4

Scripture: Matthew 27:57–66

Silence.

No angels. No proclamation. Just sealed stone and guarded tomb.

Holy Saturday honors unresolved space. Faith without visible evidence. Hope without immediate reward.

We know such days. Between diagnosis and healing. Between apology and reconciliation. Between effort and outcome.

God is at work even when unseen.

The disciples cannot yet imagine resurrection. All they know is absence.

Lent has led us here—to trust without proof.

Silence is not abandonment. It is hidden preparation.

Hold steady.

Reflection Questions

1.     Where am I waiting without clarity?

2.     Can I trust God in silence?

3.     What quiet hope remains?

Today's Lenten Devotion - Good Friday, April 3, 2026

 Good Friday – April 3

Scripture: John 19:16–30

“It is finished.”

The cross stands at the intersection of injustice and grace.

Political power conspires. Religious anxiety hardens. Crowds shift allegiance. Violence executes.

And still, Christ forgives.

Good Friday strips illusions. We see what fear does. What unchecked power does. What scapegoating does.

We also see what love does.

Love absorbs cruelty without replicating it. Love remains faithful when abandoned. Love entrusts itself to God when outcomes seem sealed.

We stand beneath the cross not as distant observers but as participants in a world that crucifies. Our silence. Our prejudice. Our fear. Our self-protection.

Yet even here, mercy speaks.

“It is finished” is not defeat. It is completion. The work of self-giving love carried fully through.

We do not rush this day. We let it expose us. We let it humble us.

And we let it heal us.

Reflection Questions

1.     What does the cross reveal in me?

2.     Where does injustice persist?