When you remember your baptism, you're not recalling a ritual. You're standing under a current of divine action that has not ceased to flow since the moment those baptismal waters hit your skin.
“The fear of the Lord” is our heart’s awakening to and recognition of God’s outrageous goodness.
The women at the tomb were surprised by Easter. Amazed and filled with wonder at Jesus' Easter eucatastrophe. And so are we.

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When you are not experiencing this kind of tribulation, the promise of “you will” hardly seems comforting. But when you are in the midst of it—when the pressure of this world is bearing down on you—it is comforting to know it has not caught God unawares.
Truly, truly, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy.
Our stories are decidedly unserious when viewed through the lens of the seriousness of God’s affairs. Jesus put the matter succinctly: “For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?” (Mark 8:36). Human affairs are not serious in and of themselves. Rather, they are consequential because they garner meaning and significance within the overarching story of God and man.
John sees heaven on earth and earth in heaven. Wherever Christ is, whether here or there, tears are being wiped away. Christ does it here in time and there forever in eternity.
We also have reasons to grieve, and it should not be hard to think of causes for sorrow in your congregation. But, because of the Resurrection, we do not grieve as those without hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). Our joy is a gift here and now, but it will not be complete until Jesus’ return.
Do you really believe with all the saints that the church is one in Christ? Or are you the pragmatist who teaches your people that the church is broken, filled with sinners and false doctrine, and only in heaven will things be perfect? Have you complained that your people are not as holy as they ought to be or reverent as they should be?
Jesus makes two extraordinary claims in this text. One has to do with His relationship to the Father. The other has to do with His relationship to His followers. The preacher on this text would do well to recognize the magnitude of these two claims, and then choose one (or both) to proclaim without apology or reservation.
John records three separate post-resurrection appearances to the disciples. We read about the first two last week. They both centered around the disciple who doubted Jesus. This week his appearance draws our attention to disciple who had denied him.
Our Brother is exalted. He’s won on our behalf. And now our Brother sits on the throne of God dangling the keys of death and hell from His finger.
The second Sunday of Easter (and the entire season of Easter, really) offers the preacher an opportunity to help hearers reflect on the significance of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead for their own lives. Thomas reminds us that there are only two responses to Easter. Either you believe it, confess it, and conform your entire life to it. Or you don’t.
As preachers approach Holy Week, it is sometimes difficult to plan ahead. With a number of sermons to prepare, it can sometimes feel like you’re just trying to keep your head above water, say whatever the given text says for that service, and move on preparing the next.
In Luke 24:1-12 we don’t get a carefully constructed theology of the resurrection. The evangelist doesn’t work out all the implications of Easter for our life and faith. He doesn’t offer a logical argument for why we should believe Jesus rose physically from the dead. Instead, he simply describes what happened.