Glad Prisoners of Hope

By Dr. Lee Canipe

During the long struggle to end apartheid in South Africa, journalist Ted Koppel interviewed Anglican bishop Desmond Tutu on Nightline. Koppel asked Tutu, himself a black South African, if the situation in that country was hopeless. “Of course, it’s hopeless from a human point of view,” replied the bishop. “But we believe in the resurrection, and so we are prisoners of hope.” An odd way to put it, perhaps, but also wonderfully accurate: Once we put our faith in something as preposterous as resurrection, it’s impossible to look at the world again in quite the same way.

If we can believe that God raised Jesus Christ from the grave, then it becomes hard to believe that any situation is ever beyond redemption, that any relationship is ever beyond reconciliation, that any person is ever beyond the reach of God’s powerful love. To believe in resurrection is to be captured by a hope that simply doesn’t conform to reason and, in fairness, can sound awfully foolish—especially given the fact that there’s nothing at all common-sensical about resurrection. If we can believe in resurrection, then even in our most cynical moments, the hope that holds us will find a way to whisper in our hearts: “Yeah, but with God, nothing is impossible.” The nineteenth century English poet Francis Thompson likened resurrection hope to being chased by the “hounds of heaven.” It’s hard to get away from—and aren’t we glad of that?!

And so, what does that mean for us? Well, for starters, it means that the Holy Spirit has given us the power to do the work of Jesus—and, in fact, says Jesus, to do “greater works than these, because I am going to the Father” (John 14:12). People who believe in resurrection look for where God is moving and then join God there, trusting that what the Lord has blessed will indeed bear good fruit. Sometimes this requires a leap of faith, stepping out into the unknown and trusting that God will be there—which, really, is the very essence of resurrection hope. May it be so with us. Alleluia!

The exchange between Koppel and Tutu is from From Our Christian Heritage, ed. Douglas Weaver (Macon, Ga.: Smyth & Helwys, 1997), 365.

Lee Canipe is the pastor of Murfreesboro Baptist Church in Murfreesboro, NC. This article originally appeared in their church newsletter, The Messenger.

An Easter on God's Acre

Home Moravian Church, Old Salem, Winston-Salem, NC

by Rev. Dr. Davis Vess

The “Salem” part of Winston-Salem refers to the historic Moravian village of Salem. Every Easter morning, in the early hours of this day, thousands of people, many of them tourists who have come especially for this event, make their way towards the courtyard in front of a 200-year-old church, founded by the Moravians. Before daylight, five hundred members of various brass bands echo hymns from different parts of the city. Everyone converges on Salem Square to listen to the almost mystical-sounding music. As the first hint of the rising sun begins to soften the darkness, a hush falls over the vast throng of worshipers. When the church bell tolls at 6 a. m., the Bishop emerges from the church and announces in a loud, unwavering voice, "Christ is Risen!" And the crowd thunders back, "Christ is Risen indeed!" Then the band begins to play "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today," and everyone joins in the singing there in front of the church.

God's Acre, Old Salem, Winston-Salem, NC

Then, in total silence, they walk in faithful procession to "God's Acre," an ancient cemetery, where all the graves, with their newly-polished gravestones, are covered with flowers. Even the oldest graves, some of them dating back three hundred years, are decorated with forsythia, jonquils, tulips, azaleas - whatever happens to be blooming at the time. The service concludes there, with more singing and remembrance of those who have died since the previous Easter. There, in the awesome silence, with the beauty of the flowers all around, it's as if the living are united with the dead in worship. A writer who witnessed the event said, "When you are in the midst of all this majesty and beauty, you cannot fail to believe in the resurrection."

And so it is in thousands of churches of every denomination all around the world on this greatest of days, Easter. The Day of Resurrection. The day of joy and hope. The central day of our faith and witness. Christmas is nice, but it's not Easter. Anybody can get excited about Christmas, giving and receiving presents, oohing and aahing over the baby born in Bethlehem. But when you come right down to it Christmas would not be Christmas without Easter.

David Vess is the pastor of Swift Creek Baptist Church in Raleigh. This article originally appreared in their church newsletter, the Swift Creek Chronicler.

The Morning After

by Dr. Tony Cartledge

Every year I wake up on Easter Monday morning and wonder how the people closest to Jesus felt on the morning after the most shocking event of their lives. Did they finally get a good night's sleep after such a restless weekend, or had they stayed up all night debating the meaning of the resurrection? Were they confident of seeing Jesus again, or still caught by surprise every time he showed up? It's hard to imagine what those first couple of days must have been like for them.

And what are they like for us? Does the passing of Easter mean nothing more than freedom from our Lenten pledges, or the end of a holiday, or a chance to try new recipes with boiled eggs before they go bad?

I hope we'll spend some time on the day after Easter thinking about what resurrection means on every other day. How is my life different because Christ arose? How are my hopes for the future different? How does the reality of Easter impact my present actions, my state of mind, my decision-making?

If we are resurrection people, how can others tell?

How long will the flowers last?

Tony Cartledge is the contributing editor for Baptists Today, and also teaches Old Testament at Campbell University Divinity School. This post originally appeared on his blog at http://www.baptiststoday.org/cartledge-blog/.