Sunday's Message: To Life!
Knowing that the children, who arrived in Narnia through the wardrobe of an eccentric old Professor, are Narnia’s rightful heirs, the Wicked Witch tricks one of the them, Edmund, into betraying the others. She seduces him with his appetite for food by offering him Turkish Delight, a treat which makes him sick to his stomach while still craving more. In addition, she traps him with the elixir of power and recognition, promising him that she will make him king all by himself.
As a result, when the majestic Lion called Aslan, Narnia’s true King, returns to depose the Witch, he discovers that Edmund has forfeited his freedom by having betrayed his family. To set Edmund free, Aslan agrees to give his life in exhange for the child's.
Aslan suffered a horrific, humiliating death at the hand of the Wicked Witch. He yielded to her taunts, as well as those of her pathetic followers on the Great Stone Table. Lucy and Susan, permitted by Aslan to watch from a distance, cried themselves to sleep beside his broken, beaten, breathless body.
To their incredible surprise and delight, this was not the end for Aslan. As the sun awoke the following morning, so did their beloved King. He had come back to life – deep, full, boundless and beautiful.
Aslan joins the children in a vicious battle against the evil queen and everything is set right: the children rule at Cair Paravel, Edmund is restored and forever changed, the natural seasons of life return to Narnia, the captured prisoners of the Queen are set free, and the Queen herself is killed.
This magnificent story, recently released as a motion picture, reminds us of one of the truly great blessings of the Easter story. And that is this:
The point of resurrection is LIFE.
Aslan returned to life, overflowing, joyful life. The prisoners of Cair Paravel, including Lucy’s beloved Fawn, are no longer frozen stiff, but restored to … life. Peter, the eldest and wisest among the children, after suffering a mortal wound in battle, was coaxed back to life by his sister’s special potion. And Edmund, whose betrayal had caused Aslan’s death, was himself given the grace of forgiveness and restoration – new life, if you will – through Aslan’s sacrifice in his stead. And, finally, the whole land of Narnia, set free from the witch’s spell of wintry death, is now a cornucopia of magnificent, overflowing, beautiful … life.
The point of resurrection is LIFE.
It is not merely that Jesus was no longer dead, but that he is wondrously ALIVE. And the blessing his resurrection provides to humans and all creation is not simply a pardon from the sentence of death, but a promise of full, meaningful, abundant, joy-filled … LIFE!
Listen to various extracts from Scripture:
- “just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life” (Romans 6:4)
- “In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Ro 6:11)
- “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come” (2 Cor 5:17).
Jesus said it best himself:
- “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11:35
- “…whoever drinks of the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:13)
- “I am the bread of life” (John6:35)
- “I came that they might have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10)
The great blessing of the resurrection is … LIFE.
Why must this be mentioned? Isn’t it obvious? I mean, after all, isn't it self evident?
Apparently not, for if you survey the landscape of Christian conversation regarding Easter, you will likely find it curiously omitted. We Christians are always talking about the resurrection in terms of how it affects our past and our future, but rarely how it affects our present.
Now I certainly have no quibble with these two themes. They are deeply profound and profoundly meaningful: because of Jesus’ death and resurrection, we have forgiveness for our past and hope for our future.
I need forgiveness for my past. I need to be set free from the guilt and condemnation of my own misdeeds. Like Edmund, I am a traitor to the King and under the spell of the Wicked Witch. As he needed the outside intervention of Aslan’s death, so do I need the sacrifice of love which Jesus offered me by laying down his life in payment for my sins. I need forgiveness for my past – and I’m profoundly grateful for it. (I trust you are, too.)
And I gladly embrace the magnificent hope for the future offered me by Jesus’ resurrection. Death is an ominous enemy, but in his victory I rest confident and assured that the grave is not the end. It wasn't for him, and it won't be for me. My last waking moment here on earth will be my first moment in the eternal, loving, joy-filled presence of Jesus. Hope is the second great gift of the resurrection.
These two gifts are commonly understood and celebrated by Christians at Easter time. But, as I said, they are only two-thirds of the story. Jesus’ death and resurrection do not merely deal with my past and my future, they also offer a tremendous blessing for my present: the third great gift of Easter is: LIFE.
It’s obvious, if you think about it for a moment. We are not set free from the penalty of sin merely to wait out our days until heaven. NO. We are set free from sin in order to LIVE.
In the movie Shawshank Redemption, “Red,” played by Morgan Freeman, speaks about Brooks, their beloved inmate friend who after a lifetime in prison was released only to take his own life. He couldn’t live on the outside. “Brooks is just institutionalized," Red mused.
A lot of us have been “institutionalized.” This is the sad state of many Christ followers. They’ve been set free from the sentence of death, but have never learned how to live. Their lives lack joy, passion and peace. Their sins still imprison them. Their relationships are shallow. They circle their wagons and decry the sad state of affairs on the outside. Like the sincere but misguided saints in Babette's Feast they wait out their days until Jesus returns. They're institutionalized, and they like it that way.
In another of my favorite movies, The Dead Poet’s Society, John Keating, played by Robin Williams, is teacher in a stuffy private school. Keating, himself a graduate of the school, is the new poetry teacher. In his first class he asks his students to read aloud the introduction to their text. He startles them by demanding that they tear the page right out of the book.
Keating told his students, "We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for."
He wants them to see that poetry is not paint by numbers, not formulaic and pedantic, as the textbook suggests, but that it is … life. Life is not merely biology; it is passion, beauty, pain, joy, love. “Seize the day boys,” he says, “make your lives extraordinary.” Carpe diem.
This Easter let us celebrate and embrace this wonderful, third blessing of the resurrection. Set free from the condemnation of sin, in the awareness that our future is secure in Christ, let us live passionately, joyfully, eagerly, expectantly, abundantly – today!
Let us love passionately. Let us celebrate riotously. Let us risk precipitously. Let us laugh uproariously. Let us cry unashamedly. Let us give abundantly. Let us feel deeply. Let us dream impossibly.
When it rains, let's go outside and jump in the puddles. When we come to a fork in the road -- let's take it! (Apologies to Yogi.)
Honor Christ’s death and resurrection not merely by repenting of your sins to receive forgiveness – though I highly recommend that – but also by determining to drink deeply from the “wells of living water” which Jesus says he came to offer. Decide that you believe he meant it when he said, “I came that they might have life, and have it to the full.”
I don’t know what that means for you in this moment. It may mean telling someone that you love them. It may mean repenting of your sin and receiving his grace. It may mean letting go of the bitterness which consumes you. Or it might mean letting go of selfishness and embracing love.
It might mean painting a picture, writing a story, or taking a hike up Black Mountain. I don’t know what it is. But I'm sure that if you listen carefully to that little voice inside you, you will know.
Carpe diem!
"To Life!"