There’s something deeply hopeful about this morning’s soaking rain after our long dry spell. We’ve just experienced the 9th driest March on record over the past 131 years, with rainfall over 1.6 inches below normal. In fact, this has been the 15th driest year to date, with precipitation more than two inches below what we typically expect by this time. The earth has been holding its breath, waiting. And then—the gentle, persistent sound of rain falling on Easter morning, each drop carrying the promise of renewal as parched soil slowly darkens with moisture and dormant seeds receive what they’ve been desperately waiting for.
Some might see only inconvenience in today’s rain—wet shoes, slick roads, adjusted plans—not recognizing they’re witnessing the necessary prelude to extraordinary renewal. Easter arrives with this same promise—what appeared lifeless is simply waiting for the right conditions to burst into new growth.
Consider the parallels in your own experience. What situations in your life have felt like extended drought—relationships that seemed beyond repair, dreams that appeared withered, hopes that seemed completely dried up? What emotions stirred within you as you waited through your own season of scarcity, wondering if renewal would ever come?
The women who approached Jesus’ tomb that first Easter morning knew that feeling of drought and waiting. They walked through pre-dawn darkness, carrying spices to anoint a body—a final act of love for someone whose story had seemingly ended. They expected to find only the permanence of death. Instead, they discovered an empty tomb that would transform not just their morning journey, but the entire human story—revealing that what looked like an ending was actually the beginning of something more beautiful than anyone could have imagined.
Throughout our Lenten journey in “The Way Home” series, we’ve followed Jesus’ path to Jerusalem. We began with his courageous decision to set out toward the holy city despite knowing the challenges ahead. We witnessed his radical welcome that crossed boundaries in the Good Samaritan story, his patient nurturing like a gardener with the fruitless fig tree, his celebration of those who were lost being found, and his challenge to bridge the divide between rich and poor.
This past week, we walked with Jesus through the darkest valley as he gave his life on the cross. Each step of this journey has revealed another facet of God’s relentless love that makes a way home for all who long for belonging. Today, on Easter morning, we arrive at the empty tomb—the exclamation point on God’s promise that nothing, not even death itself, can separate us from God’s love.
This resurrection principle is beautifully illustrated in how Kansas landscapes respond to rain after drought. Farmers and gardeners understand this—how fields that appeared hopeless can transform within days of a good soaking rain. Seeds that lay dormant in dry soil suddenly find the conditions they need to germinate. Plants that seemed dead send out new shoots. What looked brown and lifeless becomes green and vibrant.
What’s most remarkable is how quickly the transformation happens. The most dramatic renewal often comes after the longest waiting. The very landscapes that appeared most hopeless frequently display the most spectacular response to rain’s life-giving touch.
Scientists call this “drought adaptation”—the remarkable capacity of nature to endure dry periods by waiting in a state of suspended animation until conditions change. What appears dead is often simply waiting, holding the potential for life until the right moment arrives.
This natural pattern helps us understand why the empty tomb matters so much. The resurrection isn’t just about one miracle on one morning—it’s about God’s fundamental pattern of bringing life precisely where there appeared to be final death. It’s about God’s ability to send renewal exactly when and where it’s needed most, often after what feels like too long a wait.
Like the women at Jesus’ tomb who discovered not just an absence but a profound new presence, we too can find that our moments of longest waiting often precede the most unexpected and beautiful renewal. But to fully appreciate this transformation, let’s examine more closely what happened that morning as Luke tells it.
Luke wrote his gospel around the year 80-85, roughly fifty years after Jesus’ resurrection. The Roman Empire controlled the entire Mediterranean world, including Jerusalem where these events took place. Daily life was challenging for most people – heavy taxation, limited rights, and the constant presence of Roman soldiers created an atmosphere of oppression. For Jewish communities, religious practices provided structure and hope amid these difficulties.
Throughout his gospel, Luke has shown Jesus journeying toward Jerusalem, teaching and healing along the way. After the triumphal entry on Palm Sunday, the last supper with his disciples, and his crucifixion, we arrive at this tomb scene – the turning point that transforms everything that came before.
Notice how Luke tells this story. He emphasizes that the women came “very early in the morning,” symbolizing the dawn of a new era. The phrase “they found the stone rolled away” uses passive language, subtly indicating God’s action rather than human effort. The angels’ question – “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” – becomes the central challenge of the text, inviting readers then and now to shift our perspective completely.
The women’s journey from confusion to remembrance to action mirrors the path many take in their faith. First, we encounter something that disrupts our expectations. Then, we might recall Jesus’ words, connecting our present experience with past teaching we have heard. Finally, we share the news with others.
This pattern appears throughout scripture – think of how Jacob wrestled with God before receiving a new identity, how Joseph moved from prison to palace, or how the disciples on the Emmaus road had their eyes opened through breaking bread together.
Luke’s central message is clear: God’s transforming power doesn’t just continue our story – it rewrites it. What appears to be an ending becomes the beginning of something entirely new, just as the sealed tomb became the doorway to resurrection life.
This empty tomb narrative reveals profound truths not just about what happened that morning, but about how God continues to work in our world and in our lives today. As Methodists in the Wesleyan tradition, we recognize resurrection as the ultimate expression of what our founder John Wesley called “prevenient grace” – God’s love that goes ahead of us, preparing the way even when we don’t recognize it. Before the women arrived at the tomb that morning, God was already at work rolling away the stone. This mirrors how God’s grace often works in our lives, creating pathways forward when all we can see are barriers.
The angels’ question, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” connects to another Methodist emphasis – that salvation isn’t just about heaven after we die, but about transformation here and now. Wesley taught that God is continually working to make us more loving and Christlike – a process he called “sanctification.” The empty tomb shows us that God doesn’t just save us for the future but transforms us in the present.
This resurrection story isn’t just ancient history – it speaks directly into our everyday lives, challenging us to identify where we might be searching for fulfillment in places that can’t ultimately provide it. Just as those women at the tomb needed God to shift their perspective, we may need divine intervention to redirect our focus toward authentic sources of life and meaning.
Consider those times when we face seemingly immovable stones in our path. Maybe it’s a career that’s hit a dead end, with promotion opportunities blocked or meaning drained from work that once felt purposeful. Perhaps it’s a relationship that feels sealed behind barriers of misunderstanding, resentment, or simply growing apart. For others, that stone might represent a health diagnosis that appears to limit future possibilities, or financial constraints that seem to block dreams for education, home ownership, or retirement security.
The women approaching the tomb couldn’t move the stone themselves—it was too large, too heavy, too permanent. Yet they discovered it already rolled away by a power beyond their own. This reminds us that sometimes the barriers we consider permanent can be transformed through resources and strengths beyond our limited perspective—whether through community support, unexpected opportunities, or divine intervention that creates pathways where none seemed possible.
The angels’ question—“Why do you look for the living among the dead?”—challenges our tendency to search for fulfillment in places that can’t ultimately satisfy. We see this in our relentless pursuit of material success that leaves us spiritually empty, in relationships where we expect others to complete us, or in nostalgic longing for past seasons that prevents us from embracing new possibilities. Like those women, we sometimes need a divine perspective shift, redirecting our search toward sources of true life and meaning.
Then there is the disciples’ initial disbelief of the women’s testimony reflects our struggle to recognize and embrace transformation. When a colleague who hurt us reaches out with genuine apology, we might dismiss the possibility of reconciliation. When addictive patterns start breaking through recovery work, doubt can make us question whether real change is possible. When communities with histories of division begin building bridges, cynicism may lead us to expect failure rather than breakthrough. The resurrection challenges us to remain open to the possibility that what we thought was finished might actually be just beginning.
The good news is that the empty tomb reveals a God who specializes in transformation. This isn’t just about problem-solving or positive thinking—it’s about a divine reality that fundamentally changes how we understand our stories.
Jesus came into our world as God-with-us and lived among us. He taught with wisdom that still challenges us today. He healed the sick, welcomed outcasts, and showed compassion to those society had rejected. He demonstrated what love looks like in action—not just in words or theory, but in how he treated every person he encountered.
His radical love and truth-telling threatened the powers of his day. Religious and political leaders conspired against him, and he was arrested, beaten, and executed by crucifixion—one of the cruelest forms of death the Roman Empire had devised.
By all logical measures, the story should have ended there. His followers scattered, afraid and heartbroken. The women who approached his tomb that Sunday morning expected to find only a body needing proper burial.
Instead, they found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. What followed—their encounters with the risen Christ, the transformation of the disciples from fearful to fearless, the birth of a movement that continues to this day—changed the course of human history.
I understand some of you might be thinking, “That’s a nice story, Pastor, but did it really happen? Is this just ancient history or a religious fairy tale?” That’s a fair question, and doubts are part of any honest faith journey.
Here’s what I know: I believe in resurrection with everything in me. Not just because it’s written in scripture, and not just from my own experiences, but because I see resurrection power every week right here in McPherson.
I see it when you sit with a grieving friend long after others have moved on. I see it when you find the courage to start over after a devastating setback. I see it when you offer forgiveness that seemed impossible just months ago.
Consider your own life for a moment. Have there been times when something you thought was finished suddenly found new life? A relationship you assumed was broken beyond repair? A dream you had given up on? A wound you believed would never heal? Those moments—when endings transform into beginnings—are resurrection power working in your everyday life. You might be experiencing one of those moments right now.
These everyday miracles won’t make the evening news, but they’re powerful evidence that the same force that rolled away the stone continues working in our world today. The God who transformed death into life on that first Easter morning is still creating pathways through what appear to be dead ends in your life and in our community. This isn’t just ancient history—it’s your story, it’s our story, and it’s still unfolding right now.
And this adventure of finding resurrection moments in ordinary days isn’t meant to be walked alone. Here at McPherson First United Methodist Church, we’re not a community with all the answers—we’re simply people walking together, helping each other recognize God’s transforming work in our everyday experiences. We share our questions, celebrate our joys, and help each other notice resurrection moments that might otherwise go unnoticed. If you’re looking for a place to grow in faith alongside others, we’d love for you to join us for worship each Sunday at 8:30 and 10:15. Whether you’re new to faith, returning after time away, or simply seeking deeper connection, there’s a place for your story here.
Together, we’re discovering that this resurrection reality calls us to more than passive belief—it invites us to participate actively in God’s ongoing work of bringing life where death seems to reign. Through simple steps of noticing God’s work, sharing stories of hope, helping others past barriers, and creating quiet space to listen and pray, we can live as resurrection people every day.
The resurrection isn’t just an ancient story—it’s God’s ongoing promise that your journey isn’t defined by its darkest moments. The resurrection of Jesus is an invitation to trust that new life is possible, that hope endures, and that love ultimately triumphs over everything that threatens to destroy it.
Responding to this hope, I invite you to take a step today—whether for the first time, after a long absence, or as part of your continuing journey—by joining me in a simple prayer. This prayer follows a pattern of “I’m sorry, thank you, please” – acknowledging what we’ve done wrong, expressing gratitude for God’s love in Jesus, and asking for the Holy Spirit to fill our lives. This could be your resurrection moment—your first step on a new path or a renewed journey.
You can say this quietly in your heart and just repeat after me. Whether you’ve never prayed before or pray every day, this moment can be your resurrection beginning.
Will you pray with me?
God, I’m sorry for what I’ve done wrong… [Pause for silent confession]
Please forgive me…
Thank you, Jesus, for living and dying for me…
Thank you for rising again…
Please fill me with your Holy Spirit…
Help me follow you today…
Amen.
In crafting today’s sermon, I employed AI assistants like Claude and Apple Intelligence, yet the ultimate responsibility for its content rests with me. These tools offered valuable perspectives, but the most influential sermon preparation hinges on biblical study, theological insight, personal reflection, and divine guidance. I see AI as a supportive aid to enrich the sermon process while ensuring my own voice in proclaiming the Word of God.
Rev. Andrew Conard 