For the first time in over three decades, I find myself not preparing an Easter message during Holy Week. In looking back, I remember the Easter sermon as a multi-layered challenge.

Every church that I pastored had its peculiar Easter customs, a list of holy rituals that dictated the presence, or lack thereof, of Easter. Specific songs were sung, whether they were seasonally or theologically correct. Flowers adorned the chancel, usually given in honor or memory of the saints. That meant that jockeying for position to take home the “best-looking lily” started with the most strategic choice of pew. The annual reenactment of the ladies’ trip to the tomb, a.k.a, Easter sunrise service, meant that congregants were more inclined than usual to take a nap during worship. Moving through all these extra-curricular traditions made Easter sermons more complicated.

The assortment of hearers was also more convoluted than the other fifty-one Sundays. One group of people, “Chreasters,” included those I hadn’t seen since Christmas (and wouldn’t see again until next Christmas). I was thrilled that they were in worship on Easter, but the spiritual impact is diminished when all one knows about the story is that Jesus was born and that Jesus resurrected. There are some important parts in the middle of that story!

Another group of people were the family-attendees. These people appeared with their family members, seemingly to avoid the ire of the matriarch or patriarch of the clan. They were easy to spot in a crowd. I won’t give away all their clues, but suffice it to say that they kept a pretty close eye on their watches!

The protectors of the institution also added to the layers of activity.  They loved to bring out the “Easter chairs,” but then they were disappointed when they remembered that a full house rarely meant full collection plates.

Last, but certainly not least, there was the group of faithful church-goers. They were in worship every Sunday. To them, Easter was a celebration of all they believed, lived, and knew to be true. I had to look especially hard for these loyal ones on Easter Sunday, because their pews had been stolen by “strangers” on this special day.

In spite of these (now-humorous) Easter distractions, I look back and realize they are all human attempts to do something meaningful with the holiest of days.

Easter worship is the creation’s attempt to celebrate the Creator’s greatest moment.

Paul reminds us: “and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins” (1 Corinthians 15:17, New American Standard Bible).

When the sermon is over, the songs are sung, the lilies are taken, the families depart, and the “Easter chairs” are stored for next year, there is one underlying truth remaining: the tomb is empty.

For all the other things we pile on this day, the profound simplicity is this:  Our loved ones who have died in Christ, with Him as Savior and Lord of their lives, are alive…more alive than they have ever been.  It can be the same for us.

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