Biblical scholars are pretty well agreed that the original Gospel of Mark ends at chapter 16, verse 8. It concludes with the three women who came to the tomb early in the morning to anoint Jesus' dead body and could not find it and were told that he was raised and had gone before them into Galilee where he would see them. They were seized with terror and amazement. They fled from the sepulcher in fear. Significantly, the Bible begins on a similar note. After Adam and Eve ate of the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, they hid from God's presence. And when found and questioned by God, Adam said, "I was afraid...."

Fear is a dominant theme in history. It is common to our humanity. Authorities tell us that infants have two primary fears: fear of falling and fear of loud noises. Gradually, the number multiplies. We fear our fellow human beings and we fear being alone. We are afraid of the past and of the future. We worry about what we see and worry about what we cannot see. Anxiety comes on us about ourselves and about our loved ones. We sometimes dread living and we dread dying. Fear can become so sinister as to stalk every path, thwart every effort, crush every hope. The principal characters in the account we are dealing with of the first Easter -- Mary Magdalene; Mary the mother of James; and Salome -- were apprehensive and for good reason. After all, he was their dearest friend who had cared for them as no one ever had before, who had taught and shown them more about God than they had ever imagined, who had helped them to understand themselves and yet loved them unconditionally, and who had brought out the best in them and captivated them with a dream that came crashing down around their ears when he was ruthlessly put to death and buried. They at least wanted to pay their respects, anoint his dead body, and get some closure to their travail. And now they couldn't even find his body. What was all this about? What was going on?

So they fled. That's natural, isn't it? We flee because we are afraid. And then we become more fearful because we are fleeing. There is no escape from fear. We have to face it and conquer it. James Michener and A. Grove Day wrote a fascinating book shortly before World War II entitled Rascals in Paradise. It's about a learned gentleman in Australia who has a premonition that a great war is about to engulf the world. Having no desire to become involved in the foolish conflict, he studied the earth to find refuge. Finally, through the most careful research and reasoning, he concluded that his only security from the world's insanity would be found on some remote tropical island. He ended up in the Pacific and in the late summer of 1939 -- one week before Germany invaded Poland -- this astute Australian established a beachhead on the obscure island of Guadalcanal! You know the rest of the story. That would-be paradise became the focal point of the inferno that was World War II.

As I prepare this sermon, our government is still debating the official investigation the United Nations is conducting of possible weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. The United States is arduously preparing for war. Our nerves are on edge. Whether to invade or not to invade is the daily dilemma. We worry about what will happen if we do and what will happen if we don't strike first. September the 11th shattered our sense of security. We had become smug, confident of our invulnerability, if not our invincibility. Our vaunted military might, economic strength, and political power are not so formidable against sporadic terrorists attacking here, there, and yonder. Beneath all of our posturing and regaling, we know that we are in this tinderbox called planet Earth together with all other tribes, communities, cities, and nations--a fragile house indeed in which we must somehow learn to live together. We adults tell our children all will be well, but deep inside, we are quaking in our boots.

Yet we are sustained by a living, time-tested hope, not a facile optimism. To be honest, I'm not optimistic about the world situation right now. I'm really not, but I am hopeful. The Bible doesn't deal in easy optimism, believing simply in the future. Robert Frost was right: "We do not so much believe in the future as we believe the future in." There is nothing out there in the future in which to believe. It is not yet. Our hope is in the God of the future, the One who holds history and all of us in his hands. You see, the Gospel is not wishful thinking. It's so real that if you prick it on any page, it will bleed. It is hardheaded hope--trusting, really, placing confidence in the God of history, the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Ruth, David, Paul, the prophets, and especially Jesus. The God with a track record. Hope is not an emotion nor is it sheer idealism. Hope is a staunch, steadfast disposition of the soul grounded in the belief that the One who built a nation out of a band of Hebrews languishing in Egyptian bondage, who led them through the wilderness to a land of promise, who later rescued them from exile in far-away Babylon, and who sent from their ranks Jesus of Nazareth, whom we Christians know as the Messiah, this God is our refuge and strength, indeed, Redeemer and Lord. Ours is a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.

There's a great deal of superficial talk about death and life after death nowadays. The subject is treated with more sentiment than substance. That's no so in the New Testament. It meets death head on and acknowledges it for what it is: namely, the sum total of evil, the ultimate weapon of the forces of darkness, the final verdict of sin, the last enemy. Jesus took death and through death conquered death. We do not believe this to be mere speculation. The truth is Jesus reappeared in some form to his followers after his death. They never sought to explain the phenomenon; they simply experienced and lived that reality. Frederick Buechner says it wonderfully. Listen:

I cannot tell you... what I think I would have seen if I had been there myself. (He's speaking now of the resurrection.) But I can tell you this: That what I believe happened and what in faith and great joy I proclaim to you is that he somehow got up with the life in him again and the glory upon him. I was not there to see it anymore than I was awake to see the sunrise this morning, but I affirm it as surely as I do that by God's grace the sun did rise this morning because that is why the world is flooded with light.

The disciples experienced the risen Christ so surely, so dynamically, that the change in them was comparable to what had happened to Jesus himself. They were transformed, given new life, and went forth to share it with a world needing transformation. In St. Paul's Cathedral, London, there is an inscription acknowledging Sir Christopher Wren, the famous architect. It concludes: "If you seek his monument, look around you." If we are seeking sure signs of Jesus' resurrection, let us look at history, let us look all around us at lives changed by grace, congregations formed by grace--vital centers of worship and nurture and mission--and a world not yet under his control but moving in the direction of the beloved community.

The three women who went to the tomb that first Easter morning to anoint the body of their deceased leader saw no sign of Jesus. They were informed that Jesus had been raised and was going ahead of them into Galilee. They were instructed to tell the disciples and Peter that he would meet them there just as he said.

But from the accounts of the other three gospels, we learn that this did take place and that the New Testament itself and the church are the evidence of its authenticity. We would not have the church nor would we have the New Testament but for the assurance on the part of the followers of Jesus of his resurrection. Their fear, then, gave way to assurance, and in the power of the resurrection, an endless line of splendor emerged. It encircles the globe at this very hour, and you and I are privileged to be in that company.

Dr. Walter Wink makes the point that the "the resurrection is not a fact to be proved, but an experience to be shared." Christians are an Easter people. Resurrection is a reality to be lived out here and now, not just in the world to come. "It is divine transformative power overcoming the power of death." And catch this: "Resurrection is not a contract or a time-share apartment in heaven. It is the spirit of Jesus present in people who continue his struggle against domination in all its forms, here, now, on this good earth. The rest is in God's good hands."

Let us pray.

Ever living and ever loving God, how majestic is your name in all the earth! We praise you for this glorious Easter day, remembering that as Christians, every sabbath is a celebration of your victory over sin and death in the resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ, our Lord. We are indeed an Easter people experiencing new life here and now, always by your mercy having another chance, given strength over sins that shackle us, mastering our fears and moving beyond failure. Ours, O God, is a living hope because of your faithfulness, never letting us down, always being there for us without fail. Enable us to face an uncertain future with confidence in your providential care and tender mercy. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.