Jack McKinney

Pullen Memorial Baptist Church

April 8, 2007 – Easter Sunday

Text: Luke 24:1-12

What to Believe?

Ten years ago I was hired as the pastor of a dying church in the suburbs of Washington D.C. The membership of this proud congregation had once been well over 500, but by the time I arrived there were only about 100 stalwarts left. Most of them were senior citizens and they knew that the survival of the church depended on their ability to attract younger members.

So, in a fit of desperation, they hired a 32-year-old Texan who knew virtually nothing about how to grow a church. Well, I knew one thing. Statistical analysis told me that attracting families with children, or couples of child-bearing age, would expedite the process. In other words, every member that we could generate from the inside would put less pressure on me to draw new members from the outside. It was kind of a Noah’s Ark plan if you know what I mean.

And so it was that one Sunday a young couple appeared in worship for the first time. They had no children with them, but it was clear they were in the demographic that could produce a child. As they shook my hand after the service they mentioned that they were looking for a church home and would like to speak with me in my office. “Hallelujah!” I shouted silently to myself. Operation Noah’s Ark was about to begin.

As we settled in my office I was determined to put our church in the most favorable light possible. But before I could really say anything, the young man asked about the quote on the cover of the worship bulletin. I had selected a quotation from a liberal theologian for that Sunday and the young man said: “I don’t really care for her writing. She’s too liberal for me.”

A bit unnerved by how the conversation was beginning, but not wanting to upset these potential new members, I responded with a courageous, “Yeah, well, I know some people like her and some don’t.”

But before I could regain my footing and begin my sales pitch, the young man jumped in again: “What do you believe about the Bible? Do you believe it is the perfect, inerrant Word of God?” I gave a quick reply that was clearly the wrong answer. “Do you believe in the Virgin Birth?” he wanted to know. I was starting to sweat now and had forgotten about operation Noah’s Ark. “What about abortion and homosexuality?” he asked. “Do you believe these are serious sins that the church must condemn?” And in those painful moments, as my inquisitor asked me question after question about what I believed, and as I seemed to fail each succeeding test he put before me, it dawned on me I was never going to be a church growth champion.

That young man’s pushiness in asking what I believe is not unique in the church. Indeed, church can be a very pushy place in general. Just walking into this place can make us feel like we are being scrutinized about what we believe. That’s never more true than it is on Easter. The way the church celebrates the resurrection of Jesus can seem like one big test of faith. Do you believe in the bodily resurrection? Do you believe, as the Nicene Creed states, that “He (Jesus) suffered and was buried; and the third day He rose again, according to the Scriptures; and ascended into heaven, and sits on the right hand of the Father; and He shall come again, with glory, to judge the quick and the dead; whose kingdom shall have no end?” Well, do you believe that? Do you? You see what I mean about the pushiness of Easter.

So, if it is okay with you, I want to give us all a pass when it comes to turning this day into a big, pushy test of faith. If it is important to you to affirm the literal, bodily resurrection of Jesus, then there is plenty in this service to support that affirmation. And if you think that the hope we celebrate on this day means something different than the literal, bodily resurrection of Jesus, there is room for you as well. What I want us to avoid today is the obnoxious notion that has taken root in the church that goes something like this: If you will agree that a certain idea is true, in this case the resurrection of Jesus, then you are a good Christian. This definition of faith that puts all the emphasis on intellectual conformity has resulted in disturbing developments. According to many church leaders today one can be a model of the faith even if you start preemptive wars, even if you show little concern for the poor, even if you actively discriminate against whole segments of our society. It doesn’t matter what you do, according to this definition of a good Christian, it is what you say you believe that matters. And I think that’s a shameful definition of our faith. I think that’s a gross misrepresentation of our faith. And I think that way of defining our faith is robbing Christianity of its validity and vitality. So, let’s be clear, whatever you believe about the bodily resurrection of Jesus, your stance on that subject doesn’t make you a good or bad Christian. I don’t think that kind of pushy test of faith has anything to do with Easter hope.

But let me be clear, this is a day of hope. And Lord knows we could use some hope these days. Just like those faithful women who approached the tomb of Jesus on the first Easter morning needed hope. Can you imagine their despair as they undertook the solemn task of preparing Jesus’ body for burial? Like a great spiritual lottery, they had placed all their hopes on Jesus and his movement for change. And now he was gone. But when they reached the tomb and received the news from the strange messengers that Jesus had been raised, everything was suddenly turned upside down. And two things happen to these women in the aftermath of this revelation that seem important for us to remember.

The first thing the text tells us about how the women responded to the strange messengers is that they were terrified. This is such an obvious and predictable reaction to this fantastic situation that it might seem hardly worth noting. But I want us to notice this specific detail not because the women were afraid, but because of how they dealt with their fear. They didn’t run away as fear often makes us do. They didn’t act rashly or violently, as can happen in our most frightened state. They did what is the most difficult thing to do when we are afraid. They steadied themselves and listened. There was a message for them and they needed to hear it, but in order to do that they had to decide not to let their fear dictate their response.

I can’t think of a more important example for us to follow on this Easter than how these women handled this situation. Fear is a constant companion for all of us and we can’t do much about that. The world is a scary place in many respects. But when we make our decisions based on our fears, rather than our hopes, then we are in trouble. We see many examples of that right now. A foreign policy rooted in our worst fears has caused the United States to become aggressively violent and has separated our country from virtually all of our global neighbors. The heterosexual majority in this country is afraid if they allow same-sex marriage it will mysteriously undermine their own marriages (still haven’t figured that one out yet), so we carry on with our discrimination unabated. Parents make decisions about their children based largely on the worst thing that could happen to them, not the best thing that could happen to them. Over and over again we see this dynamic play out in our personal lives. We live out of our fear, not our hope, and as a result we live small lives with little meaning. Thank God those women at the empty tomb didn’t do that. They allowed their deepest hopes to conquer their worst fears, and as a result they became the church’s first messengers of good news.

But another important thing happened to these women after they returned to tell the other disciples about what they had seen and heard. They were immediately judged as untrustworthy messengers. Certainly their story would be difficult for anyone to accept, but the text suggests that the men immediately decided the women were making it all up or passing on wild rumors. Something tells me if one of the twelve apostles had burst in with the same news he might at least have received the benefit of the doubt.

The judgment that these women were subjected to is another common part of our lives. Indeed, it may be the worst thing about our contemporary culture. We are constantly judging one another based on an almost unlimited set of factors. Even in the church we fall into this repetitive cycle of judgments. We may talk about grace here, but we have a hard time extending it to one another, especially when we disagree with someone. Perhaps the greatest lesson many of us still have to learn is how we can differ with someone without judging their character or intellect.

Will Campbell has been doing that very thing for years now. Campbell, ordained as a Baptist preacher in backwoods Mississippi, was the only white minister present at the creation of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. He escorted nine black students through angry mobs at Central High School in Little Rock. He was present at sit-ins, civil rights demonstrations, and strategy meetings with Martin Luther King, Jr. He has been one of the great prophets in the struggle for racial justice. But years ago Campbell took a path that few of his progressive friends could understand. He started befriending members of the Ku Klux Klan who live near him in rural Tennessee. He performed their wedding ceremonies, officiated at their funerals, visited them in prison, and welcomed them into his home. His ability to care for people whose views he finds reprehensible is a living parable for all of us on how to live without judgment.

The Easter message the church proclaims has to be bigger than a religious test we either pass or fail. In a world filled with fear and judgment we must proclaim a hope that is stronger than both of those things. And in that sense resurrection hope is not something we believe in; it is something we practice. Every time we choose to live out of our deepest hopes instead of our worst fears, we are proclaiming the power of life over death! Every time we suspend our debilitating judgments and extend healing grace, we are proclaiming the power of life over death! The hope of Easter is not simply what happened 2000 years ago. It is a power that is still transforming our world if we will practice it. So pick up your bells, and get ready to rejoice, because hope is alive and Christ the Lord is risen today! Alleluia!