A group of women had a grisly job to do. Their Sabbath rest was over. They now were free to finish what had been interrupted at sundown Friday evening. They were to take the mutilated corpse of their friend Jesus and finish the embalming process. An ominous way to begin your week.

Then something strange happened. The tomb is open, and instead of the body, they discover two men who terrify them saying, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen." Thus begins something that will change the way they experience all of life. From now on, they know there is more beneath the surface of life than they had ever imagined. They have begun to experience the power of God’s presence. They have tasted resurrection.

On the evening of November 23, 1654, the mathematician Blaise Paschal experienced something profound. At his death they discovered sewn into the lining of his coat a piece of parchment with these words from his hand: "From about half past ten in the evening until half past midnight. Fire. God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, not of the philosophers and scholars. Certainty, certainty, heartfelt, joy, peace. God of Jesus Christ."

The Christian faith begins with the experience of a living God. Indeed, I would say all religion begins with the experience of a living God. But how do we get that experience of God? How do we feel God? ...know God? The resurrection of Jesus happened so long ago; you and I weren’t there. We didn’t see what these women saw. We don’t have anything but a bunch of words. We need more than words. We need the experience of the divine. Where does that come from?

I think every human being has moments when we experience God. But I’m not sure that we remember and treasure those moments. They happen. We note their wonder. But then we dismiss them as odd or unexplained, and these memories get buried deep in our consciousness.

Sometime these moments are very simple, like a woman I know who suddenly began to look at her hands in the dishwater. She marveled at how wonderful and complex her hands were. The lines were so amazing; her fingerprints unique. She thought of how these fingers could make beautiful music on the piano and also convey her touch of love to her child. Thoughtlessly they did her bidding, coordinating thousands of nerve impulses and muscle contractions in seconds. For a while she just looked at her hands with awe. And then a warm feeling of appreciation and wonder came over her, and she knew this marvelous gift was from God. She rested for a while in her sense of gratitude. Then the mood was gone, as suddenly as it emerged. And her attention moved to see the sink full of the dirty pots she needed to scrub. But something had changed, and she treasured what she had known. This time as she cleaned her pots and pans, she did so with a sense that it was wonderful that she could do this simple yet profound act of washing dishes with her marvelous hands.

Will she remember? Or will she dismiss what she has experienced as a mere daydream? William Barclay observes in his book The Gospel of Luke, "Many people saw steam raise the lid of a kettle; only James Watt went on to think of a steam engine. Many people saw an apple fall; only Isaac Newton went on to think of the law of gravity." We might add that many people saw a shepherd return home with a lost sheep draped over his shoulders, but only Jesus went on to think of God’s loving concern for sinners. Many people saw the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, but only Jesus went on to think of God’s loving providence. Many people glimpse beyond the limit of the physical to see the hint of the spiritual, but only those who treasure these moments nurture the growth of the spirit that brings the tangible experience of God to life. For those, resurrection becomes real.

Sometimes we are reluctant to save or share our experience of the numinous. We believe that people won’t understand. We’re not sure we understand. That’s normal. The Gospel passage we just read, the women’s experience at the tomb, ended with the words "(the women) told this to the apostles." We didn’t read the next verse: "But these words seemed to (the apostles) an idle tale, and they did not believe (the women)" (Lk. 24:11) It's still true, isn't it?

I want to tell you what I once experienced. And it's okay if you don’t believe me. I was on a retreat. I was reading and meditating on a passage from Isaiah. It was one of those visionary passages, and I suddenly felt jealous. God seemed so real to Isaiah, and so distant from me. I begged God. "I want to know you. I want to experience you." I wanted to feel God like Isaiah did. It’s impossible to describe in words what happened next, but I sensed a great presence in the room with me. It felt like it was behind me and somewhat to my right. It felt immense and benevolent and real; chills went up my back and my breath caught. My mind whispered, "Is that you? Is this what God feels like?" What I experienced next I can't describe. The closest I’ve been able to come is to say that it felt like a cosmic laugh! It felt like God was laughing at and with me with a boundless joy saying, "Yes! Yes! That’s what God feels like!"

Now I’ve got a choice. It is very reasonable for me to say that I just created that experience in my imagination. Or because it is so different from my normal experience of reality, I could just dismiss it as too perplexing to dwell on. Or, I could treasure and remember that moment as a glimpse into a deeper reality. It sure felt real. And the memory motivates me with a kind of hope that seems to energize the best part of me. I choose to honor that experience and let it change me.

My story wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t tell you the other thing that happened on that retreat. The next day I heard the voice of God. It’s the only time that I believe I have heard God’s voice. And the voice of God said to me, "Lowell, do your taxes." It was late July. I had taken an extension. August 15 was coming up. I left my retreat two days early and went home and did my taxes.

I think moments of divine transcendence come to every person on the planet — while washing dishes or reading or seeing the sun set or listening to music. We have moments when we encounter the divine; ...Spirit; ...resurrection. It happens especially in liminal moments of solitude.

For many of us these moments happen in sacred space and sacred time during worship. For others their cathedral is the earth. God has infinite ways to reach us and gives us these subtle glimpses into eternity wherever we are — in hospitals and prisons, in cars and offices, alone and with others. Strangers appear and ask us unexpected questions. "Why do you seek the living among the dead?" Something breaks open, and we experience a sense of the divine that previously was hidden.

Pray for the experience of the presence of God, the power of the resurrection of Jesus. Treasure and remember your glimpses of the divine. Then, wash the dishes, do your taxes, love your family and your neighbor as yourself. But do all of that with a new sense of wonder and gratitude, knowing that everything is filled with the spirit of God.

Alleluia, Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

back to sermons