Truth Over Fear

Church, what will the rest of your Easter Sunday look like? Maybe you have family in town, maybe you’re cooking some food, hiding eggs, or gathering with friends.

Have you ever thought about what happened on the evening of the first resurrection Sunday?

What a celebration that must have been. Right? Well, not exactly. There were no parades in the streets. There was no bold preaching. There was no BBQ.

Instead, John tells us in chapter 20, “On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked, where the disciples were for fear of the Jews.” (John 20:19)

That’s how the first Easter night is remembered.

The Messiah is risen, and his disciples are huddled in a locked room, afraid.

These are the men who walked with Jesus. They heard him say he would rise. They heard reports that morning that the tomb was empty. Peter and John had seen it for themselves—all the way down to the linen face cloth folded up by itself. (John 20:7)

Others heard firsthand from the Mary Magdalen who said: “I have seen the Lord.” (John 20:18). And from the women who reported a vision of angels who said that he was alive. (Luke 24:23)

All to say, this room was not lacking information. And yet, it was a room where the truth had not yet taken hold.

The decisive moment in history had already happened. Death had been overcome, but their lives had not caught up to reality. They were still living as if the resurrection had not happened, and as if men held ultimate power over them. And so, they locked the doors reflecting what they believed: Something out there can still undo us.

Luke tells us that, in this same moment, they are startled and frightened. (Luke 24:37) Even as reports of the resurrection were being spoken in the room, fear is still informing their actions.

This is the first Easter night. And friends, it shows us something that we would rather not see. It is possible to stand on this side of the empty tomb, to affirm the resurrection with your lips, and still have a life that has not caught up to that reality.

Scripture is very clear. The truth is laid out before us, and yet, other things still feel more real.

Grief can feel more real. Past trauma can feel more real. Reputation among peers can feel more real. So can our aging earthly bodies, or marriage struggles or loneliness or wayward children or control or insecurity. Fear can feel more real.

And church, don’t we do what they did? We structure our lives around those fears. We make decisions to protect ourselves. We hold back true inward repentance for the sake of outward behavior modification. We keep certain doors shut, because we are not yet convinced that

Christ’s victory actually governs those places. We confess that He is risen. But we still live as if something else has the final say.

Earlier that same day, two disciples were on the road to a town called Emmaus. They saw Jesus in his resurrected body. He opened their eyes, and they recognized Him. They ran back with urgency to tell the others saying, “The Lord has risen indeed!” (Luke 24:34)

And now here we are—Emmaus Church—reading about a room full of people who had heard that same report and were still behind locked doors. It is possible to have Emmaus in your name and still have locked doors in your life.

Brothers and sisters, Christ is risen. That happened in history and it echoes into eternity. The question is whether your life has caught up to that reality, or whether you are still being shaped by a world that has already been overcome. (John 16:33)

Let’s take a moment of silence and confess the places where fear has had more influence over us than the risen Christ.