St. John’s Episcopal Church
Tallahassee, FL
John 20:1–18
Some have called today’s Gospel
“The Easter run.”
It starts when one of Jesus’ closest friends Mary Magdalene
goes to the tomb early in the morning,
but when she gets there and it seems
his body has been stolen,
she runs to tell the other disciples.
Peter and John hear her,
and then they run to the tomb.
We’re not exactly sure
how far it would have been,
but the best we can tell,
it was probably just under a mile.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
All this running
early in the morning.
Then all of a sudden—boom—
everything comes to a halt.
Peter and John go back home,
and Mary stops running.
As one writer puts it,
“That is not as easy to do as it sounds.
We live in a culture
dominated by running.
Listen to our daily language:
My imagination is running wild.
My emotions are running away.
Let me run something by you.
I gotta run some errands.
I gotta run to the store.
I’m running to work.
I’m running home.
I’m running late.
I’m running myself ragged.
Running describes us,” he says. [1]
But finally, Mary . . . stops . . . running.
She is worn out.
She’s grieving.
She’s confused.
She’s tired.
She does not understand what’s going on.
She stops running . . .
and that is when
she’s finally able to hear it:
“Mary.”
He had been there the whole time.
She thought he was just the gardener.
She thought he was somebody else.
She thought he was nobody.
But it was him . . .
her friend,
her teacher,
her Lord.
Jesus had been standing right beside her
the whole time.
* * *
Whoever you are,
whatever you think has brought you here today,
I am willing to bet
that you also know something
about running around.
You know what it’s like to live in this age . . .
this culture . . .
this worried,
frenzied,
breakneck pace
that we force upon ourselves.
Whatever you think has brought you here today,
chances are, you’ve been running yourself ragged, too.
I get it.
We all do.
But let me tell you something.
Whatever you think has brought you here today,
it’s not because you just really love St. John’s;
it’s not because you just really love Easter;
it’s not because of
custom,
or tradition,
or the music,
or the pageantry,
or because your meemaw just flat out told you you had to.
No, y’all, you are here today,
because God called you.
For just a little bit today,
you get to not run around.
You get to sit and rest.
You get to think about something
other than your list.
You get to worship.
You get to just . . . be.
Whether you’re
happy or sad,
sick or well,
young or old,
liberal or conservative,
rich or poor,
gay or straight,
spiritual or skeptical,
black, white, or brown . . .
you are here today
to be loved.
And can I tell you the best part?
Can I tell you the insane grace of it all?
Jesus knows your name, too.
With all the running we do—
with all our
worries
and fears
and triumphs
and joys
and anxieties
and burdens
and lists —
it’s so easy to run right past Jesus
over and over and over
every single day.
But today, just for a moment,
you get to pause from the run,
which is just long enough
to hear him call your name.
He knows your name.
He knows you.
He loves you.
He is alive,
and is right by your side.
He always was.
He always will be.
And that, my friends,
is an Easter promise.
Amen.
[1] Wright, Robert C. What Does Easter Mean? Sermon delivered on Day1, April 12, 2009. https://day1.org/weekly-broadcast/5e9b55ab6615fb824e0000c9