For as long as I can remember growing up, one book was ever-present on my mother’s night table.  It was entitled: The Way, by E. Stanley Jones.  Dr. Jones was a prominent Methodist evangelist and missionary during the first half of the 20^th century, and the title The Way comes from the term “Followers of the Way,” which was how Christians were referred to in the early days of the church.

 

Dr. Jones once told a story of an African who converted to Christianity.  At his baptism on Easter, the man changed his name to "After."  The man now known as "After" reasoned that life as he knew it before Easter was over, and all things were new and different after Easter.  And the first way he could show the world that he had new life in the Risen Christ was through his new name -- "After."

 

A week ago, we celebrated Easter, the most important, sacred and joyous day of the Christian calendar.  Many of us gathered right here in this sanctuary to celebrate that Jesus' life of sacrificial love ended not in death but in new life.  Easter was packed full of great music, glorious singing, fragrant white lilies on the chancel, and new Easter outfits.  I hope your Easter celebrations were everything you wanted them to be.

 

But how has your life been after Easter?  On Monday the 9^th, did you go back to your same routine, back to work, back to school?  “After Easter” can be, quite frankly, a period of let down, especially in the church, and despite a day of music and flowers and celebration, we are tempted to go back to where we were, and to who we were, and to what we were doing before Easter came along and interrupted us with its power and glory.

 

After Easter, we seem to go back to life the way it was before.  That is what the disciples are trying to do in this morning’s scripture lesson.  Their Easter Day was far less impressive than ours, of course.  There were no Good News Kid Choir, no solos by Mike Williams, no sermons trying to explain the unexplainable; there were no egg hunts or chocolate bunnies or ham dinners or family celebrations.  The disciples were, after all, mourning the death of their beloved Master and Teacher.

If you have ever suffered the loss of a loved one, then you may have learned the hard way that our culture doesn’t give you much time to grieve.  You are expected to get over it and then get back to your life.  This was never more apparent than in the personnel policies of the corporations where I used to work: you got three days’ bereavement leave for the death of a parent, spouse or child.  Three days to get over it and move past your grief.  Don’t just sit around mourning; get back to work. 

But life isn’t the same after; it can never be the same as it was before.

We’re not quite sure how long after that first Easter this scene from John’s Gospel takes place, but it is long enough for the disciples to have left Jerusalem and made the long trek back to Galilee.  Galilee was home for them; it was the place where everything had begun, which makes it the natural place for them to return, now that it seems that everything has come to an end. 

After Easter, the disciples try to go back to where they were and who they were and what they were doing before Jesus had come into their lives.  And the only thing they know how to do without Jesus is fish.  They fish all night long without catching a single thing.  “Time after time, their net comes up empty, a perfect match for their hearts.”[1]  And then they hear a Voice; they can’t see anyone in the early morning mist, but they can hear someone calling out to them across the water, asking, “Children, have you no fish?...Cast the net to the right side of the boat and you will find some.”  They follow the Voice’s advice and sure enough, their net becomes so full of fish they can’t haul it in.

The beloved disciple, John, hears something familiar in that Voice, and cries:  “It is the Lord!”  In response, Peter jumps into the water, scrambling toward that Voice.  As he does, he may be remembering another time he leapt out of a boat toward Jesus.  Once before, Jesus had walked on water toward the disciples in their boat and had said to Peter, “Come.”  And Peter had responded to that invitation by getting out of the boat and walking on the water toward his Lord [Matthew 14:29].

“Come and follow me, and I will make you fishers of men,” Jesus had once said to them [Matthew 4:19].  “Come and have breakfast,” the Risen Christ says now to his wet, happy disciples.  They had followed him then, and they follow him now, making their way to shore to share a meal with Jesus.  The last meal of their old life together was supper; the first meal of their new life together “after Easter” is a resurrection breakfast. 

And listen to how John’s gospel summarizes Jesus’ “after Easter” activities: “Jesus did many other miraculous signs in the presence of his disciples…. That you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name” [John 20:30].  Jesus spends his “after Easter” days helping people believe in new life through the Risen Christ.  Jesus’ “after-Easter” presence is so powerful, so real, so convincing, that the lives of his followers are completely transformed:  cowards become courageous; doubters become believers; deniers become affirmers; quitters become joiners.  Grief is turned to joy, fear into faith, death into new life. 

The disciples’ experiences of the risen Christ turn their lives around.  After Easter, they tirelessly travel and preach, eager to tell others of new life in Jesus Christ.  Tradition tells us that after Easter, Mary Magdalene travels to Marseilles, on the southern coast of France, and there she preaches Christianity until her death.  And Peter receives the chance to start over; despite his failures of nerve, his lapses of love, his shame and his denials, Jesus gives him a new commission and a new purpose, and Peter becomes the rock upon which Christ’s church is built. 

We may all have celebrated Easter, but for many of us, it may seem that our life “after” is no different than life “before.”  Two thousand years ago, God turned death into life in the city of Jerusalem, a city that today is filled with hatred and violence and killing.  The war in Iraq rages on, and our daily headlines are filled with terrorism, violence, and death.

And my guess is that many of us came to Easter worship last week with heavy-laden hearts.  Some of us are grieving the death of a loved one.  We’re worried about our health or that of a friend or family member.  We’re dealing with job loss or financial worries.  We’re heartsick over failing marriages or broken relationships.  We’re struggling with an addiction.  Our hearts are heavy, burdened by grief, loss, anxiety, uncertainty, and disillusionment.  And we come to church looking for hope. 

Yes, it may seem that a lot of what happens after Easter has happened before.  But nothing is the same after.  It can never be the same as it was before, because the Risen Christ is with us to forgive and to heal, to transform and make new, to help us carry our heavy burdens.  It is in the ache of our longing, in the shame of our failures, in the shadows of our darkness, that the Risen Christ comes to us, bringing peace in the midst of pain, hope in the center of hurt, and new life to our bruised and battered lives. 

Over the two years that I have been blessed to serve as your pastor, I have witnessed many of you struggle with personal crises.  And I have seen God’s loving presence and healing grace carry you through the valleys of your shadows into new beginnings and the dawning of a new day.  And when times have been tough for some of you, I have witnessed others of you offering your support, praying for each other, writing notes, placing phone calls, knitting prayers shawls, and making visits. 

 

The Apostle Paul uses the image of the church as the body of the Risen Christ.  When one of us despairs, or when one of us loses hope, there are others to hold us up and to renew our faith, and our care for one another is the living Christ at work; when we are strong for one another, it is Christ who is strong through us. 

 

The Good News is that we can all live “after Easter” lives.  No matter what parts of your life exhaust you and drain you, the Risen Christ can take them and fill them with hope and vitality and love.  If you want to know what that means, then respond to the invitation that Jesus Christ extends to you.  One moment the night is dark and foggy, and the next moment, a new day dawns over the horizon.  One moment the net looks empty and the next it’s so full it’s starting to break.  It is the Lord!  That is what the beloved disciple said.  How did he know?  How do any of us know?  By looking into each others’ faces; by listening with open hearts; by living in the expectation that God can and will show up in our lives; and by refusing to believe that our nets will stay empty or that our nights will last forever. 

 

For those with ears to hear, there is a Voice inviting us to turn all our dead ends into new beginnings.  “Come,” says that Voice.  “Come, follow me.”  “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” says that Voice.  “Come, and have breakfast.”  Amen.