God’s Creative Power | Easter 2025

Two nights ago, we gathered in this room to make space for the darkness of Good Friday. On Good Friday, we acknowledge the death of an innocent man at the hands of an empire and religious leaders who sought their own power and their own good. That day never should have happened, and it certainly shouldn’t have held any hope. It is important to recognize it as it was, a day of human cruelty and darkness. As we walked through the story of Jesus’ suffering, our readings ended with him hanging on the cross while darkness covered the land, even though it was daytime. And when Jesus took his last breath, the earth shook, the temple curtain tore from top to bottom, and rocks split open. Many who saw this then believed Jesus had been innocent—truly the Son of God. But Jesus’ disciples were not there.

In our passage this morning, we find the disciples still in Jerusalem. Holy in name, but in reality, it was the place of Jesus’ death. They are hiding, overcome with grief and fear. Now, we have the luxury of knowing Jesus has risen, but let’s set aside our hindsight and enter the text with open hearts.

John 20:19 says, “On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the disciples had gathered together and locked the doors of the place where they were because they were afraid of the Jews.”

The disciples are terrified, and for good reason. The man they believed to be the promised Messiah—whom they had left everything to follow—had been betrayed by one of their own, arrested in this very city. They saw him taken, and they fled when he needed them most. They had abandoned their friend and their Rabbi. And while they hid, Jesus was beaten, unfairly tried, and put to death in the most shameful and violent way possible. They were heartbroken by the loss of their friend and devastated by the loss of their Savior. Crucifixion seemed to prove that Jesus could not possibly be the Messiah they hoped for. Now they feared for their own lives, branded as followers of a condemned criminal. Where could they go? What could they do? How would they ever find hope again?

Like the disciples, I have known, and likely many if not all of you have known, the crushing grief of death. Two years ago tomorrow, I sat in a quiet bedroom after my friend, Amy, died from cancer. As I sat there feeling a whole range of things: relief that she was free from the pain, guilt that I felt relief, sadness about losing my friend, heartbreak for her family, dread for the days to come knowing she wouldn’t be there anymore. I remember just staring at her body, it seemed unreal. It’s hard to describe how empty a once-living body feels. It’s as if our souls recognize the absence of another. And that absence brings a sadness, so heavy because we know, deep down, that death is not what God intended. We recognize it for what it is—an enemy.

But then…

John 20:20: Jesus came and stood among them, “Peace be with you.”  When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.

John tells this moment quite simply, but in Luke’s Gospel, we learn that the disciples were scared; they thought Jesus was a ghost. I wonder if Jesus had tried knocking, but their fear had kept them locked in. So Jesus did what God always does, he came near to his friends. Knowing he had scared them, Jesus offered them peace, just as he did when he walked on water toward their boat caught in a storm. They thought he was a ghost then too.

It is only when Jesus presents his crucifixion wounds that they recognize him. Each time Jesus appears to his friends in his resurrected body, they do not immediately know it is him. Though he was the same Jesus who died on the cross—his wounds still visible—he had been transformed and raised to a new kind of life.

Resurrection is not simply resuscitation– it is a complete transformation of body and being.

As recognition dawns in that room full of fearful followers, they are moved to worship.

So Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. Just as the Father has sent me, I also send you.” And after he said this, he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

I hear echoes of another story here: the first day of the week, darkness and chaos, God appearing, speaking and breathing new life.

Sound familiar?

In Genesis 1, the earth was chaotic, darkness covered the face of the deep waters. God’s Spirit moved and then God spoke, "Let there be light"; and there was light. God saw that the light was good.

And the scene Matthew describes at Jesus’ death, reads like a reversal of creation. Unnatural darkness falls, the earth shakes, rocks split— as if creation itself is leaning in to shroud Christ’s death. The depth of human depravity plunges the world back into literal darkness and chaos, a physical mirroring of the moral darkness of humanity who crucified the very God who gave us life.

But thankfully, God’s creative power did not stop in Genesis. At the resurrection, God speaks again, creating light. And the light was good.

Today we celebrate that light, the light that darkness cannot overcome, no matter how dark the world seems.

Theologian N.T. Wright says, “Easter is about the wild delight of God’s creative power.” At Easter, God initiates new creation. No wonder we have echoes of Genesis all throughout the resurrection stories.

When Jesus appears to his friends in that dark room, he calms their fear, speaking peace just as he once spoke light. Then he breathes the Spirit into them, just as he once breathed life into humankind in the garden. In that moment, the disciples aren’t just comforted, they’re transformed and empowered.

If you’re like me, the resurrection can feel too familiar, maybe even tame. Which is crazy to say—I have never seen anyone rise from the dead. But I have heard about the resurrection of Jesus all my life, and maybe have grown too used to it. What I long for is to see it again with joyful delight, to be amazed by God’s creative power anew.

After Jesus breathes the Spirit on his friends, he gives them the authority to forgive sins. He invites them to join his work of renewal in the world. This is the same resurrection life we are called into. The same Spirit that raised Jesus now lives in us, constantly transforming our darkness into light.

My daughter, Allie, recently asked why only Jesus was resurrected. Why can’t all people be raised from the dead? It’s a great question. And the good news is, the truth of the resurrection is more than a singular past event. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15, that Jesus is the “firstfruits” of our resurrection. His resurrection guarantees our resurrection, otherwise death remains undefeated. This isn’t about death avoided, but instead death transformed. Because Jesus was raised, we know we will also be raised to the same new kind of life. A fully embodied life, whole and eternal, made to dwell in the presence of God.

And this is where Amy’s story comes back to me. I’ve thought about that moment with Amy so many times—how final death feels. I understand why the disciples didn’t understand or expect resurrection even though Jesus told them it would happen. I’ve heard about it my whole life, but my only experience has been the finality of death, living with the unending absence of those you love when they die. I can’t imagine resurrection.  And maybe that’s the point: God’s creative power exceeds our imagination.

But the resurrection is also more than a future hope.

Quoting N.T. Wright again, as he echoes the Apostle Paul, “The present bodily life is not valueless just because it will die. What you do in the present—by painting, preaching, singing, sewing, praying, teaching, building hospitals, digging wells, campaigning for justice, writing poems, caring for the needy, loving your neighbor as yourself—will last into God’s future.”

Resurrection means this life matters.

As Jesus healed, restored, fed, and loved—so should we. As we live, empowered by the Spirit and walking in the way of Jesus, doing the things we love and are gifted to do, we serve as examples of God’s new creation, revealing what God wants to do for all of creation. We become part of how God is making all things new, now and in the future.

That’s the wild delight of Easter.

The same Spirit who brought light out of darkness in Genesis, the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead, is in us now and will raise us too. No more pain, no more sin, no more death.

So as we go today, we go together, filled with resurrection hope, empowered by the Spirit, proclaiming—by our lives— the wild delight of God’s creative power.