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
No comments:
Post a Comment