Luke 24.1-12
‘Fake news.’
What a buzzword that has become in our world.
Add a hashtag, and it becomes an easy putdown to that irritating social media post. Nope – not having that – moving on! Add a question mark, and it becomes a concerned reply to that questionable article that your mum keeps sending to the family WhatsApp group. Where does that information come from, Mum, and how reliable is it?
In the end, it’s about trust. Do I trust the message? And do I trust the messenger?
That is what the followers of Jesus in Luke’s account of the resurrection are wrestling with.
Who, and what, do I trust, when the world is falling apart and my heart is breaking and nothing, nothing seems to make sense anymore?
This is the devastated state in which the women return to the tomb. They have watched, from a distance, as Jesus – their rabbi, their Messiah – has been humiliated and crucified. They have seen his body laid, broken and defeated, in the tomb. In sorrow, they have prepared spices and ointments. They have rested on the Sabbath – although, you wonder how much rest they have actually had. And now they come, to mourn for Jesus, and to honour him in death.
And their world is turned upside down.
There is no body. Instead, the women find two men in dazzling clothes, who tell them that Jesus is risen, as he foretold.
The messengers are remarkable – miraculous, even. The message is no less so.
Fake news? Or could it possibly, gloriously, incredibly, be true?
Astounded, the women return and relay what has happened to the disciples – in hope? In belief? In fear? One thing is clear – whatever has happened, it is undeniably different to what they, in their grief, had anticipated. They journeyed to the tomb in the shadow of death – they return, with words of life.
The response – from those that they know and love, but from those that are as broken-hearted as they were? ‘An idle tale.’ It cannot be possible. Fake news. The disciples can believe neither the message, nor the messengers.
Something, though, has kindled in Peter. A spark of hope. He runs to the tomb – there are no angels, now, but the body is gone. Could it possibly be true? He leaves, amazed.
Who do you trust, Peter? What do you trust in?
Later in this chapter, Jesus will appear to his followers, literally embodying first-hand the evidence of the incredible miracle. But let us linger here, when he has not yet arrived. Where, in this moment – or in our own circumstances – or in our faith – do we stand?
Do we rejoice – believe and act upon the message of hope that is given to us? Do we close ourselves off, and say ‘some things are not possible’? Do we, like Peter, race to see for ourselves – to seek truth for the things that we cannot yet comprehend?
Who do we trust? What do we trust in?
Jesus’ followers in this passage must wait for him to appear to them in the flesh – and now, so must we. But as we look forward to Pentecost, let us be reminded of the truth that by the Holy Spirit within us, we can always turn to Him, come to Him, run to Him, as the women and Peter did thousands of years ago. Even when the Message seems remarkable, we can always turn to the Messenger, the Messiah – and ask for His aid, His wisdom, and His love.
Let’s pray.
God, in a world full of noise and claim and counter-claim, we long for truth. Help us to learn to hear, learn to know, and learn to trust Your still, small voice and the message of hope and life that it brings.
Amen.