Jeremiah 31:1-6; Matthew 28:1-10
Rev. Dr. Deborah L. Clark
April 9, 2023
“You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains. You raise me up to walk on stormy seas. I am strong when I am on your shoulders; you raise me up to more than I can be.” Throughout Lent, we sang the chorus of this anthem as our response to the Assurance of God’s forgiveness. As we sang our gratitude for God’s promise of renewal, we were also singing to each other—gratitude for the ways we have raised each other up as we traveled together toward Easter. We were singing as well to people beyond this church who have journeyed with us, helping us climb mountains and navigate storms.
We also produced a Lenten daily devotional, written by members of our congregation. We read powerful stories of how we have been raised up by companions on our journeys of faith. Rick Seaholm vividly depicted riding to church every Sunday in his family’s Pontiac station wagon—and the power of that weekly journey to raise him up in faith. Mary Memmott told of impromptu gardening conversations during vacations, one leading to the gift of a giant Michigan zucchini: the power of a shared passion to inspire generosity and enable tastiness. Fran Bogle wrote of the feel of a gnarly hand grasping hers, as her Grandma reminded her it was okay to feel alone and afraid, for even Jesus felt that way sometimes. Joe Hudock told of sitting with Joe the Barber on the bench outside his shop, taking a break from cleaning while being lifted up by friendship. Heather Esposito described journeying with her Dad, Bill McGraw, to the end of his earthly life. Nicola told about the lift to her spirits when she could offer a granola bar to a friend on a hike. We read about a begrudgingly offered tire that saved a trip to California, a whooping crane who stayed with her injured mate, an atheist friend who urged a return to church, a cat companion named Lucy, a new journey of grandparenthood, and more. We read stories of being raised up by the unexpected kindness of a stranger, by relationships that are deep and lasting, by the gift of being able to give.
These daily reflections complemented our Sunday worship, which focused on ways we are raised up by Jesus. Over and over in our scriptures, we heard Jesus call us to claim that we are more than we thought we were. By challenging us to extend hospitality, he assured us we have something of value to offer. When he left us alone with a suffering child, he conveyed his trust in our capacity to be conduits of God’s healing spirit. He declared that God is present in each of us, even when we feel like the “least” and the lowest. Jesus’ faith in us raised us up from our limited perceptions of our own worth.
Even before we got to Easter, the words of this anthem resonated in our lives. Today they explode with new, even deeper, meaning. Today we hear the story of Jesus raised up. Jesus was executed, brutally murdered by an empire whose power was vast and overwhelming. Hate and fear and abuse of power had won—or so it seemed. Three days later, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to the tomb to grieve. When they arrived, an earthquake rolled away the stone; the tomb was empty. They heard the promise that Jesus had been raised from the dead. They ran from that place with fear and great joy, until they practically bumped into Jesus himself.
For some of us, the literal truth of this story is central to our faith. For others, the resurrection is metaphorical. However we understand this story, it speaks a truth that changes everything. God’s love is more powerful than hate and fear, despair and even death. In the face of suffering and death, God is at work bringing new life, new hope. This truth raises us up, freeing us from the power our own fear and despair, from the power of the world’s hate and greed.
Over the last six weeks, we have heard and reflected on many stories of being raised up. Easter takes all those stories and gives them new—higher, deeper, richer—meaning. They are not just momentary experiences of being uplifted. They are reflections of the profound Easter truth—reflections of the power of God’s love to raise us up to a new way of living.
What does that mean for our lives today? What does that mean for our lives tomorrow, after the chocolate bunnies have been eaten and when the complexities of everyday life begin to weigh us down once more?
The words of our anthem point to some of the ways this Easter truth lifts us up. “You raise me up,” we sing, “so I can stand on mountains.” When we stand on a mountaintop we see what we cannot see in the valley. We gain perspective; our view is wider. The things that constrain our lives may still be there, and we can see beyond them to new possibilities. From the mountaintop, we can see patterns and connections, the ways our small acts of love are part of something much larger. We can see that the powers of hate and fear, though daunting, pale in comparison to the power of love. From this mountain, we can see the struggles and joys of our everyday lives in the context of the Easter truth: God’s love is more powerful than anything we face.
There are times, for each of us, when it feels impossible to get ourselves up to the top of this mountain, impossible to gain perspective. Thanks be to God, we are not alone. We come together in community so we can give one another a hand up. And in those moments when the fog is so thick we can’t imagine the mountain could even exist, we remind each other that it is there.
“You raise me up,” we sing, “to walk on stormy seas.” The song refers to a familiar gospel text. Jesus comes walking on the water in the midst of a storm. Peter leaps out of the boat to walk toward Jesus, held up for the moment by a burst of courage. When he realizes what is happening, fear takes over and he begins to sink, until Jesus catches him by the hand.
The Easter story does not promise an end to the stormy seas of our lives. Instead, by assuring us of the ultimate victory of love, it gives us courage to face the storms head on, to risk stepping out of the boat, to trust Jesus is with us and will hold us up.
The chorus reaches its climax: “I am strong when I am on your shoulders; you raise me up to more than I can be.” What a powerful expression of how the gospel redefines strength. Strength is not about being able to do it all ourselves. Strength comes in giving and receiving help, in allowing ourselves to ride on someone’s shoulders, in offering our own shoulder to help carry a friend’s burden. When we rely on each other, when we turn to God for help, we are raised up. We are more than we can be—not bigger, faster and stronger, but part of something greater than ourselves. We become part of God’s love at work in the world. We become conduits of healing, bearers of good news, beacons of light, channels of peace.
This beautiful chorus is framed by equally beautiful verses. One of them brings tears to my eyes: “There is no life, no life without its hungers. Each restless heart beats so imperfectly. But when you come and I am filled with wonder, sometimes I think I glimpse eternity.”
We are deeply aware of hungers we don’t know how to satisfy, of the imperfect beating of our own restless hearts. That is what it means to be human. The Easter story doesn’t take away our human hungers and imperfections; it celebrates God’s love for us in all our humanness. God’s love works through our human hearts, no matter how restless and imperfect they may be. The Easter story inspires us to wonder—at the depth of God’s love for us, at God’s choice to work through ordinary, hungry, restless hearts like ours. When we open ourselves to wonder at the beauty and power of God’s love, we glimpse eternity. We know, if only for a moment, that we are held in God’s love forever–in life, in death, in life beyond death. We are raised up in wonder.
Friends, today and every day, I pray that you may be raised up by the Easter story, by the promise that God’s love is more powerful than hate and fear, suffering and death. May you be raised up so you can see your role in God’s love at work in our world. May you be raised up by courage to step out into the storminess of life. May you be raised up by the strength that comes from relying on one another. May you be raised up to wonder. May you discover that you are so much more than you ever thought you were: more beloved, more loving, part of something more wondrous than you ever imagined. Amen.