Jesus Here and Now
Anastasis, Russian icon, 1650-1700, gold leaf and tempera on wood panel, St. Louis Art Museum, public domain.
The gospel text may prompt many questions for readers today. Why were dead bodies laid in a stone tomb, and how were spices used to prepare them? Did devout people regularly see angels in dazzling clothes, and did they always appear as men? If Jesus really predicted his resurrection, then why were the disciples so reluctant to believe it actually had happened? I could spend a lot of time explaining.
An op-ed piece for The Christian Century magazine opens with a memory of a sign posted at the entrance to Jerusalem’s Church of All Nations, next to the Garden of Gethsemane. The sign was a warning to discourage talkative tour guides from disturbing the church’s prayerful atmosphere. It said, “No explanations inside the church.” Jim Friedrich, author of the editorial, and an Episcopal priest, went on to say: “It has always struck me as very good advice for preachers on Easter Sunday.”[1]
I’m trying to heed that advice more often. For a long time, my Easter sermons were defenses of the Christian faith. Now I realize that Easter usually is not a good time to expect such a sermon to be heard. Jim Friedrich challenges preachers to adjust their focus. He writes, “The central question of Easter is not ‘What happened to Jesus way back then?’ but rather ‘Where is Jesus now – for us?’”[2]
Where is Jesus for us now? That feels like a pressing question these days. As I mentioned in the sermon on Maundy Thursday, there are many activists telling us that if we don’t protest and resist, then soon our country will be under martial law and subject to the whims of an authoritarian government. You don’t need an explanation; brief descriptions are enough to call to mind troubling developments: immigrants who disappear, then reappear in a foreign super-prison; federal officials posing for social-media photos against the backdrop of prisoners in concentration-camp-like conditions; an executive branch that denies it has power or responsibility to abide by a unanimous Supreme-Court ruling. Many citizens feel less safe from the arbitrary actions of our own federal government. Years ago, Presbyterian author Anne Lamotte wrote words that still feel true: “We’re Easter people living in a Good Friday world.”[3]
Friedrich goes on to say that the early Church, during all its trials and tribulations, regularly answered the question, “Where is Jesus now – for us?” when they celebrated the Lord’s Supper. Communion wasn’t treated as an anniversary, like a Founder’s Day where people pull out the old scrapbooks and talk about the glory days when Jesus was here. He says their worship gatherings were more focused on how the timeless Christ is here, present in the present moment, calling people to a new identity and purpose.
Reading all this reminded me how, during the construction of this building, an opportunity was presented to design new worship furnishings. When we were pondering an inscription for the Lord’s Table, I hoped for something different than the oft-used verse, “Do this in remembrance of me.” We chose words just a little bit further along in the 24th chapter of Luke: “Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him …” Our use of that verse represents a subtle shift in thinking very much in line with Friedrich’s thinking. We worship not only in remembrance of what Jesus was doing long ago, but also we worship to allow the Spirit to open our eyes to what Jesus is doing today.
Where is Jesus now for me and for you? During the time since Easter was last celebrated, I’ve had some unexpected opportunities to think about that question. I could tell you even more than I already have about the journey through childhood cancer with our granddaughter Nora. I’ve felt Jesus’ presence in the practice of prayer, and through the compassionate support of God’s people.
If I go down another branch of the family tree, I could tell you about legal trouble. A family member went to work one morning, was arrested, jailed, and didn’t come home. The emotional impact of that day was like a sinkhole opening up, and swallowing someone you love. For several days, I looked at the app on my iPhone where I could see on a map his last known location in the final moment before his iPhone was switched off, and he disappeared. My anguish began to dissipate only when I went to the jail, and through its technology, saw his face, had a conversation, and shared a prayer.
When I ask myself the question, “Where is Jesus now, this week, for me?” that experience influences my answer. Late this week, I saw Jesus present in our brother, Episcopalian Christian Chris Van Hollen. He was in El Salvador to find and speak with Mr. Garcia, the deported immigrant we’ve heard so much about. I can imagine how photos of Garcia, looking well after his ordeal, must be a comfort to his wife and children. The image of Van Hollennreaching out in support [4] put me in mind of Jesus’ words in Matthew 25: “I was in prison and you visited me.”
Jim Friedrich, whose op-ed informs much of this sermon, offers an observation about another kind of “reaching out” that he observes in Eastern Orthodox art. He says, “In orthodox iconography of the resurrection, Jesus is never by himself. He is always depicted taking the dead by the hand and pulling them out of their own tombs ….”[5] Google “Eastern Orthodox resurrection,” as I did, and you will find beautiful images of Jesus lifting up souls from the hellish prisons in which they find themselves.
Where is Jesus now for you? When you’ve not been sure you will make it through the day, is it possible Christ has been present in a person who reached out a hand to lift you up?
Where is Jesus now? May our eyes be opened to see Jesus right here in our midst. Though the world seems headed toward destruction, turn to God in prayer, come back to this place where God works in us and through us to lift people up out of the grave.
Several years ago, I borrowed words from a Robert Fulghum essay, and formed them into this benediction: “We need God, and we need each other, and so we come to this place - to work and pray and sing and laugh and cry and think. We call ourselves a Christian church. Not because this place is in itself sacred. But because what God does here makes it so.” So let it continue to be!
NOTES
[1] Jim Friedrich, “Preaching on Easter Sunday isn’t about convincing people,” The Christian Century, 21 Apr. 2019, https://www.christiancentury.org/article/opinion/preaching-easter-sunday-isn-t-about-convincing-people , reaccessed 15 Apr. 2025.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies.
[4] https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/17/us/politics/senator-chris-van-hollen-el-salvador-prison.html
[5] Again, Friedrich.
READ MORE, https://www.fpcedw.org/pastors-blog
