IT ISN’T OVER YET

Traveling at a rate well above the spiritual speed limit, the gospel of Mark propels us through Jesus’ ministry, betrayal and crucifixion, comes to a screeching, soul-rattling halt in front of the empty tomb, and leaves us dangling ever so precariously on this side of Easter.

Nor do the mystified women, scurrying away from their eye-opening experience, reveal Mark’s reason for abruptly ending his gospel with, of all the words from which he could choose, the Greek word “gar” – the English word, “for.” Here is literally what he leaves us with: “To no one anything they said, afraid they were for . . .”

For what?
For whom?

Is it for the toddler in India, the infant in Africa, the newborn in these United States – the three children who will be crucified by hunger in the next nine seconds?

Is it for the lonely immigrant who spent today hiding – hiding under a thorn-covered tree in the South Texan desert, clutching an almost empty water bottle, praying to survive the heat, the anxiety, and the authorities?

Is it for the Hartford teenager who, at this very moment, is lying awake and wondering – wondering if the only way out of his hell is to play basketball or sell drugs?

Who will bring the good news to the hungry, the lonely, the alien and the outcast?
The disciples are terrified.
The women are petrified.
So who will bring the good news to those who are desperate for any good news?

The good news that God isn’t dead;
That this is a God who “observes their misery, hears their cry, knows their suffering, and comes down to deliver them . . .” (Exod. 2:7-8a),
That this is a God who sends God’s Son, God’s only Son . . .

For what?
For whom?
For us – for

In him, we see most clearly what God is like,
With him, painful endings are transformed into joyful beginnings, and
Through him, each one of us – baptized, confirmed, received – is empowered to move beyond our failures and our fears to make a positive difference in the world.

Because he came for them as well – those who are wondering if anyone sees them, hears them, wants them, loves them. God asks us to tell them – to show them – that they, too, matter to God. After all, David Buttrick’s statement in his 1987 book, Homiletics, is as true today as it was almost thirty years ago, “if Jesus can do nothing but come into our hearts while the world’s babies starve, then he is scarcely the savior of all.”

In the most recent issue of The Living Pulpit, Stephen Farris tells the story of a man, Pete, who had a genius for reaching young people. Pete ran a program in his tiny Ontario town that attracted as many as 75 children each week – including those who were not affiliated with any church. One boy, Marty, knew absolutely nothing about Christianity. . . so much so that, when he entered the sanctuary for the first time, he looked at the ornate chairs in the chancel and asked, “What chair does God sit in?”

One night, Pete decided to tell the gospel story. As the young people sat around an artificial campfire in the church’s basement, Pete, dressed as a shepherd, told them about Jesus’ amazing love, powerful words and life-changing deeds. As he told them about Jesus’ betrayal, torture, and crucifixion, Marty grew more and more distressed, until finally, as Jesus hung from the cross and died, he could take it no longer. “Oh mannnn!” he cried. At that moment, a child sitting next to Marty reached over, laid his hands on Marty’s arm, and said, “It’s alright, Marty. It’s not over yet.”

“You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is not here. . . He is going ahead of you.”

He is going ahead of us, but he beckons us to follow, to help write our part in the unfolding story, and to reassure our hurting world – to reassure our hurting world that “It isn’t over yet!”