“Jesus said to [Mary], ‘Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.”’”                                             (John 20:17)

I have long been convinced that there are multiple dimensions to this life. There is far more than we can see or touch or feel. Paul says it well when he writes, “Now we see through a glass only dimly.” 

The story of Easter is part of that reality, especially the Gospel story in John. We are told that Mary makes two trips to the garden that first Easter morning. On the first trip she finds the grave open and empty. She runs to find the disciples. She cries to them, “They have taken the body of our Lord, and I do not know where they have put him.” 

Then she makes a second visit. On that second visit she stands looking into the tomb. She hears a voice behind her. She doesn’t recognize the voice at first. It’s not too unlike those phone calls I receive once in a while that say simply, “Hi. It’s me!” It takes me a while to figure out who “me” is! But Jesus then calls her name. He says simply, “Mary.” And she knows who it is. 

Mary wants to embrace Jesus. She wants to say, “Oh Master, you are alive!” Hers is a very natural and normal reaction. But Jesus says, “No, not now, not yet. I have not yet ascended to my Father.” The implication of this response is, “I am in a new dimension now.” 

Paul says something similar in his Easter story. In the 15^th chapter of Corinthians he says, “Some will say, ‘How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?’”  Then Paul makes the statement that the resurrection life is a whole new dimension. He says the perishable must put on the imperishable and the mortal must put on immortality. 

There’s a story out of my seminary Chapel that happened many years ago during one of the fundamentalist debates of the 1920s. The professor was preaching in Chapel on a given morning and he was preaching on the Apostles’ Creed. He had a very strict interpretation of the Creed. He was a strong, robust, healthy, towering man. He said to the congregation, “I believe in the resurrection of this body.” 

Within moments he was interrupted by another professor of theology from the school. This particular professor was in poor health. His physical body had been wasted extensive by several bouts with cancer. He stood up in the chapel and said, “You, sir, may want your body when you get to heaven, but I’m hoping for a new body.” 

Today is our faith story about a whole new dimension of reality. What can I tell you about this new dimension? 

MYSTERY 

Easter is fundamentally mystery. A colleague in another part of the country has preached a series of sermons for Lent entitled “Mystery in the Margins.” I think I like that. 

Paul says we walk by faith and not by sight. Again in I Corinthians 15 he says, “Behold, I tell you a mystery…” One of my favorite passages from Paul is where he says, “No eye has seen, no ear heard, no mind conceived what has been prepared for those who love God.” Fundamentally, Easter is mystery. 

SURPRISE 

But it’s also surprise. Paul says, “The trumpet shall sound, and we shall all be changed.” Maybe that text should read, “The trumpet shall sound, and we shall all be surprised.” 

Remember the story about the used tombstone for sale, advertised in a large city newspaper? The ad said, “This is a real bargain for someone named ‘Dingo.’” Wouldn’t you like to know the story about Dingo? You might be surprised!  

Henri Nouwen once struck a beautiful metaphor for what heaven will be like. He said that every time he traveled anywhere in the world and landed at some strange airport he had a fantasy that someone would be there who would say, “Hi, Henri, welcome.” It would be somebody who knew him well, and who would welcome him with an embrace and a smile. Each time he waited for the voice, and each time he was disappointed. But then he said to himself, “It’s all right. When I get home my friends or family will be there.” Nevertheless the fantasy persisted. Every time he landed at a new airport, he waited for the “Hey, Henri, over here. How are you? Glad to see you!” Each time he was disappointed, but then he remembered that when he arrived back home, his friends and family would be there. 

Said Nouwen, “Heaven is going to be like that. God will be there, along with my family and my friends who have died, and they will say, ‘Hey Henri, glad to see you. How was it? Let’s see your slides.’” Easter is about surprise. 

There’s a story that most people believe comes from Mark Twain. He tells about a rather pompous and self-important man who dies and goes to heaven. He meets St. Peter at the gate. St. Peter shakes his hand, welcomes him to heaven, and says nothing more. Peter goes back to what he was doing. The man stands for a moment close to Peter and then he goes, “Ahem.” Peter looks up and says, “Yes? Was there something else?” The man replies, “Think. Haven’t you forgotten something?” 

“No, not that I know of,” says Peter. The man says, “Look at me. What’s wrong with me?” Peter replies, “Nothing that I can see.” And then the man explodes. “Hey, man, where is my halo? Where is my harp? Where is my hymn book? And for God’s sake, where are my wings?” Peter says, “To be frank, sir, I never heard of any of those things.” And the man says to St. Peter, “You know, for someone who has been in the Kingdom as long as you have, you certainly know powerful little about its customs!” 

Easter is surprise. 

Sir Winston Churchill planned his own funeral. He asked that they sing the great and triumphal music of the church. He asked that they read the victorious passages of Scripture. But the real surprise came after the benediction. 

A bugler stood in the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. As people listened the bugler played the doleful sounds of taps. And then another surprise. Another bugler on the other side of the dome played “Reveille.” 

Churchill was not a theologian. But he says something to us in this instruction. The last note of life is not taps, but reveille. The last note is not death, but life. Surprise! Mary, at the empty tomb, encountered mystery and surprise. 

CHANGE 

The story also implies change—fundamental change. It is unlike anything else we have ever known. It is complete transformation. Again, Paul says, “We shall all be changed.” 

Do you remember the story about the church that was looking for Scripture verses over all the rooms in their new building? They easily came up with the one for the sanctuary: “I was glad when they said unto me, ‘Let us go into the house of the Lord.’” And over each of the classrooms was a sign that said, “Study to show yourselves approved to God.” But they had a hard time figuring what to put over the nursery until someone came up with this text from I Corinthians: “We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed.” Easter is about fundamental change.

A pastor was preaching one morning on what heaven would be like. He said there will be no money in heaven—those things would no longer matter. 

A little boy was sitting with his mother, listening intently. He leaned over and whispered to her, “Hey mom, it sounds like we’re already in heaven.” 

Easter is about fundamental change. 

Jim Jackson serves a large United Methodist church in Houston, Texas. Two years ago he wrote an interesting pastor’s column. In it he writes this:

In May an entire generation of cicadas will emerge from the ground and invade 15 eastern states. For some reason they claw their way to the surface every 13 to 17 years, shed their exoskeletons, spread their new wings and fly off to mate.

I remember a cicada invasion we had in Georgia when our children were young. Our son decided to start a collection of the 1-inch cicada exoskeletons. The problem was, there were millions of them. I tried to reason with him. “Son, this is not the real cicada. At least not anymore. The cicada once lived in its shell, but now it’s gone.”

“I know,” my son answered. “It’s dead.”

“No,” I insisted. “The little bug is still alive. It just turned its old body in for a new one. The old body couldn’t fly, but the new body can.”

That conversation took place 25 years ago, but I remember it vividly as if yesterday.

The way cicadas shuck their old bodies and claim a new one reminds me of the metamorphosis the Bible promises to all of us when we die. Death looks like the end to us, as the cicada looked dead to our son. Our bodies, like cicada exoskeletons, are left behind, but the person we really are

remains alive and lives in another form and dimension.[i] 

Easter is about a new dimension. Part of what that means is fundamental change. That’s the story of Easter. 

GLORY 

Easter is also about glory. Christmas is glory (“Gloria in excelsis deo!”) Easter is glory. The gospel stories about Easter are consistent in one point: the people who came to the empty tomb met men in radiant white clothing. Matthew says, “Their appearance was like lightning; their clothes were white as snow.” Mark says, “There was a young man in a white robe sitting there.” Luke says, “Two men greeted them in bright shining clothes.” And John says, “There were two angels sitting there, dressed in white.” 

Is this not why George Frederic Handel writes, “He is King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and he shall reign for ever and ever. Hallelujah.” 

Charles Haddon Spurgeon was a great preacher in England in the early part of the 20^th century. At one point he wrote this: “After death, what comes? What wonder world will open our astonished sight? What scene of glory will be unfolded to our view? No traveler has ever returned to tell. But we know enough of the heavenly land to make us welcome our summons with joy and gladness.”[ii] 

Easter is about glory. It’s a part of the new dimension. 

NOW 

Easter is also about now. It’s about this moment in time. It’s about this instant. It’s not just something out there in the dim future, but it is something present now. I love the title of one of Paul Tillich’s books of sermons called The Eternal Now.  

Remember the story of Lazarus last week? In that story Jesus said, “I am the Resurrection AND THE LIFE.” 

A couple visited the church served by a colleague of mine. The visiting couple was from the South Pacific islands. They had been a combination of Hindu and Buddhist until the early 1990s. Early in the 1990s they were converted to Christianity. 

“What brought you to Christ?” my friend asked. 

The husband replied,

One day I met Christ. He came to me in a dream, and although I had never met him before or even heard of him before, I knew who he was. I knew he had come to me straight from God, and what he showed me was that I can know God person-to-person and face-to-face. I cannot tell you what a tremendous change that has brought about in my life. 

Then he added this astute observation:

You see, all I had before was religion, but now I have a relationship. 

“Tell me where you have laid him,” Mary pleads. Jesus replies, “Mary!” Suddenly she knows who he is: “Teacher!” And a relationship is restored. 

I invite you this Easter Day into a relationship with the One who knows your name. 

I invite you into a relationship with One who desires to walk with you from now into eternity.