I.
Throughout the season of Lent, we have been talking about a story, the story of God and God’s people found in the Bible. It’s easy to miss the fact that the Bible holds a story. Is there a connection between the God of Adam and Eve and the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob? And what in the world does that have to do with Jesus? And the real question is, “What does that have to do with me?”
What we have discovered is that in fact there is a story here. There are common threads that run throughout the Bible. We have discovered that it is in this story upon which all great stories find their structure and their parts. It is within this story that we find any hope that our story might have meaning.
We have talked about the inevitability of uncertainty in our stories—that in a story, you don’t know what is coming next. You don’t know what the next chapter will be. It is a mystery we live into. In this way, life is more like a story than a formula or a timeline.
II.
Still, there are some big moments that are expected. You can tell when a big day is coming. You can sense it. A good storyteller lets you know that you have arrived at one of those monumental, story-changing moments. You can feel it, like your first kiss, or your wedding day, or that hike to the top of Half Dome at Yosemite National Park or to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, or that first big deal that you seal, or the first time you hold your child or grandchild. A good storyteller lets you know leading up to that, that this is a big day. So they invite us to read slowly and pay attention. These moments will shape the character forever.
One of the biggest experiences for a young boy involved in Cub Scouts is Pinewood Derby Race Day. And in my first year of cub scouts, I couldn’t wait until they set up the racetracks in my elementary school cafeteria for the big race.
I knew it would be a big day for me, and I know this sounds silly, but I just knew I would win a trophy. I knew it would be a life-defining, historical day for me,
When they gave me my block of pinewood, I could see the car already. Immediately, I went to work in our basement. My dad watched over my shoulder to supervise my work, especially working with saws, but he let me design it. Though I had straight and sleek lines in mind, when I actually drew them on the block and then cut them, they weren’t as straight and sleek as I had envisioned. My car was uneven and unbalanced, but I couldn’t see it at that time. To me it looked perfect. When I finished, my dad helped me spray paint it. Looking at the car, it looked more like a piece of modern art than a car. After attaching the wheels, I knew my awkward-looking car was a winner! The trophy was in my grasp.
I showed up to the school cafeteria, and everything changed. To my horror, I saw the other cars, and they looked like cars. They had racing stripes and window decals and numbers. How could I have forgotten a number? I wasn’t deterred, though. I thought, “Let’s race and leave it all on the track.” There were two races. If you won, you advanced, and on and on it would go until the fastest cars raced at the end.
In both races, my car finished dead last.
Here’s what I remember from that devastating time. Sitting in a chair, my head down, holding my piece of modern art, listening to the whizz of Pinewood Derby cars and the occasional cheers from parents, I thought, “How did this day, this big day, this defining day, this trophy day, turn out like this?” Everything in my story said this day would be one thing, and now it was something quite different. Now the story seemed over.
(hold up block of wood) As you look at this piece of wood, think about some of the things in your story that started out with such promise and potential and ended up as bad art.
As you think about that, I want to recap the God Story for you as we have looked at it together during this Lenten season. In the beginning is our Introduction to the main character of this story, God.
We are introduced to God and God is powerful and mysterious and just by speaking can set the whole world in motion. After speaking humans into creation, God takes an incredible, unprecedented step, God speaks to that which God created. Immediately we know this God is different from other gods. This was Thread #1 in the story: God speaks because God desires relationship. God doesn’t want to be a far off God. Shortly after, the man and the woman choose to do their own thing rather than follow God, listening to the bad guy and listening to their stomachs over the word of God, beginning their thread of deceit and betrayal.
The laughable dream of Abraham showed us Thread #2: If God makes a promise, God keeps it. As we watched the wandering people of God get frustrated in the wilderness, we found Thread #3: God will provide all you need for the journey. Then with David, we saw an unlikely little shepherd boy become king—Thread #4: God calls the unlikely and gives them a better story. We talked about how the Soundtrack to this whole story is the prophetic voice singing over us the beautiful message of Thread #5: God’s love is reoccurring and relentless.
The people of God were waiting, waiting for a new king, the real king, the king God would send. They are waiting on Resolution. A young boy, born to an unlikely family, Jesus rides into Jerusalem on the first day of Passover. Jesus comes riding in on a donkey and the people recognize Jesus of Nazareth as King. They say “Here is the King of Israel, Hosanna, save us now.”
This is our big day, the moment we hoped for, the moment we knew would come; we could sense it coming in the story, and here it is—our defining moment—God will make things right; God will give us our rightful place; God will save us.
This is the first of the week, and by Friday, they have nailed that same man, the one they said was King to a piece of wood. We want to think that we wouldn’t have done that, but everything about the story and our story points to the fact that we would have.
III.
Big days don’t always go as we expected, and this can be disappointing.
The disciples, Jesus’ closest friends, spend Friday and Saturday and into the night, thinking how in the world did this happen? This was going to be it, our big day, our defining moment. Now the story is over.
For Mary, it’s over. And if you have ever experienced something you think is over, it’s an empty, lonely, scary feeling. When the thing you need most is done—the part of the story you need most to continue—you feel lost. And this was one of those from every possible angle. It’s done.
Mary showed up at the tomb that morning and it was over. Done. Jesus himself had said on the cross where they could hear him, “It is finished.” Mary comes to the garden alone. She sees the empty tomb, runs to tell Peter and John. They come, investigate the situation, and go home, which is their way of dealing with the doneness of this situation.
And then…suddenly she’s not alone. You know the feeling when you think you’re alone and then you find out your not. It’s unsettling. You put your guard up; you become very aware of your surroundings, surroundings you had ignored moments ago.
Your brain tries to make sense of it quickly. I’m in a garden. He must be the gardener. You speak before you’ve thought it all through.
“If you have taken his body somewhere, it’s ok; just let me know where he is, and I will get it. You’re not in trouble; just tell me where he is!”
And then…
“Mary.”
“Mary,” he says.
Had she even looked at him yet? Had she even turned to see whose shadow it was?
“Mary,” he said.
And she knew. And you know how, when your mom says your name over the phone when you answer, or your spouse says it as they lay next to you, or your hear your child call it from a room down the hall, you know who just spoke your name? Mary knew.
It wasn’t over. It wasn’t done. He wasn’t gone. He wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead inside. She wasn’t done. Her life wasn’t over.
It was Jesus. The Jesus run wasn’t over. The Jesus relationship wasn’t over.
She knows it’s Jesus and that he is God. And he still speaks to call us into relationship, that God kept his promise, and that Jesus has been all she needed for her journey. And he calls her, the unlikely one, and has given her a better story. And the story of a reoccurring relentless love that will not give up on her, will go the grave and come back and not give up.
This is what they call in a story, or in a movie, the Twist Ending. Sometimes it is called the big reveal, or the moment of truth. Finally it all makes sense. Most great stories do this. When hope is lost, the amazing, unthinkable happens.
Back at the Pinewood Derby, I sat there until all the races were finished. They began calling out the winners of the trophies: first, second, and third for every den, and then overall. My head still down, they said, “And now for our last award of the night, probably the most anticipated trophy of each year, goes to one of our youngest scouts. The winner of the 1979 Pack Favorite Award goes to Scott Nowack!”
I couldn’t believe it. I was shocked and surprised as I walked up there, I’m sure now my dad paid somebody off, but in that moment I thought, “How could I have forgotten about the Pack Favorite Award?” And I promise you it was a defining moment for me, to be shaken from my introspective grief to see that there was a bigger, better story for me. I became a kid, who could hold hope for something good even when bad things happened, who would have the courage to dream and dream big.
This story, this Jesus story, says I can take whatever you’ve got and give you the best prize. It is a Twist Ending to the story. I bet you didn’t see this coming: that Jesus could come and take your thread of betrayal, deceit, messing up, or whatever it is that you think defines you, and speak to you. He speaks your name in a way that you will know it’s him. He keeps his promise of life and hope to you and gives you all you need. He writes you a better story, unlikely though you may be, and you see how relentless Jesus is in telling you that he loves you.
It changes everything. Easter is the Twist Ending we’ve all been waiting for. Easter is the “You think it’s over, but it’s not.”
The sun rose this morning, same as it has for thousands of years, same as it did the first Easter morning. It says, God is not done. God is not through with us yet. Jesus is not dead. Jesus is alive. He has risen. He has risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen!
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