![]() In the stillness of this early hour—not unlike Mary Magdalene did that first Easter morning--while it was still dark. The world had not yet awakened. The birds had not yet begun to sing. The shadows still clung to the earth. It was in that darkness that Mary made her way to the tomb. And what did she expect to find? A sealed grave. A still body. More sorrow. Like many of us, she carried grief. Like many of us, she went looking for something that made sense in a world that had stopped making sense. Jesus, her Teacher, her Lord, had died. All hope seemed lost. But—praise God—Easter doesn’t wait for the sun to rise. Resurrection power doesn’t wait for everything to be perfect or well-lit. God moves in the dark. It was in the darkness that the stone was already rolled away. It was in the shadows that death was defeated. Jesus had already risen. By the time Mary reached the tomb, the miracle had already happened. And that’s the message for us today. Sometimes, while we are still in our darkest moments… God is already at work. Before we understand it, before we even pray for it, Jesus is alive. Victory is already ours—even if we’re still weeping at the tomb. This morning, as light slowly pushes back the night, we are reminded: the dawn always comes. Christ’s resurrection is not just a historical event; it is a present power. A living promise. Because Jesus lives, our sins are forgiven. Because Jesus lives, death has lost its sting. Because Jesus lives, we can rise—with hope, with courage, with joy. So, come out of the shadows. Come with your doubts, your fear, your tired heart. The tomb is empty. Christ is risen. He calls us by name, just as He did Mary. He is not behind us in the grave. He is ahead of us in glory. Let us walk forward into the light, into this new day, and into resurrection life. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
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AuthorAbout Rev. Dr. Erin Marie Burns (But please, just call me Erin!) I’m a pastor, writer, and professional "showing-upper" when life gets messy. Around here, we talk about grief, faith, hope, and how to care for people when words just aren’t enough—because let’s face it, sometimes life hands us more questions than answers (and that's okay). I believe in the holy power of just being there, that coffee should basically count as a spiritual practice, and that God shows up in the small, quiet moments—like a kind text, a shared silence, or a garden full of stubbornly beautiful dahlias. When I’m not writing or walking alongside folks in hard seasons, you’ll probably find me: Attempting to tame my garden (the weeds usually win). Practicing archery like I’m training for a medieval adventure. Chasing family time, deep conversations, and maybe a slice of pie. If you’re looking for real talk, a little humor, and gentle reminders that you don’t have to fix everything—you’ve found your spot. Pull up a chair, grab a mug of something warm, and stick around. We’re in this together. P.S. Come back next week—grief, faith, and hope aren’t one-time conversations! ArchivesCategories |