The godly and the ungodly, at present, are all mingled together. In the congregation and in the place of worship–in the city and in the field–the children of God and the children of the world are all side by side. But it shall not be so always. In the day of our Lord’s return, there shall at length be a complete division. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye; at the last trumpet, each party shall be separated from the other forever more. Wives shall be separated from husbands–parents from children–brothers from sisters–masters from servants–preachers from hearers. There shall be no time for parting words, or a change of mind, when the Lord appears. All shall be taken as they are, and reap according as they have sown. Believers shall be caught up to glory, honor, and eternal life. Unbelievers shall be left behind to shame and everlasting contempt.

–Expository Thoughts of the Gospels, cited by yours truly in the sermon yesterday on Matthew 24

People used to die. Now, it seems, they pass away. Or — say it quickly and quietly enough no one will even notice — they just pass. Media outlets report the passing of someone famous. Undertakers now refer to the deceased as having passed away when communicating funeral arrangements. Buckingham Palace, announcing the recent death of the Duchess of Kent, stated that she had “passed away peacefully” (News, 12 September). Is this the death of dying?

Euphemisms for death and dying are nothing new. But there is a subtle and important difference between the idioms that we have used in the past, and the increasingly normalised use of “pass” and “pass away”….

Jesus did not pass on the cross; nor did he pass away for our sins. If we believe that our hope of resurrection lies in the resurrection of Jesus, then we need to use the same language about our death as we do about his death. We need to reclaim the language of dying and death.

Read it all.

Went to visit my grandfather (and my great grandparents, greatuncle & greataunt). You hear the sound of the sea from the graveyard.

Hard to believe my grandfather is dead these 12 years. pic.twitter.com/VzExPZg3gW

— John McCafferty (@jdmccafferty) June 22, 2024

“I’m currently working on a bunch of hellish paintings,” says the US-born artist Sedrick Chisom from his east London studio. One in particular, destined for the Paris Basel booth of gallery Pilar Corrias, features a Babel-esque “ziggurat tower structure that doubles as an active volcano”. In an earlier work, an axe-wielding “chaotic villain” is drawn with carnivalesque panache. “He’s got all the hallmarks,” says Chisom. “A really morose dying horse, his horns, and he’s just having a delightful time.”

The artist is interested, he says, in “the social dimension of designating something heaven or hell. It’s truly an intersubjective. What might be perceived as heaven by one person might be hell for another.” Chisom is one of a number of contemporary artists bringing the hellish and the heavenly to the canvas as a way of exploring personal and societal unrest, looming ecological crisis and utopian visions of possible transcendence.

At Hauser & Wirth in New York, Canadian painter Ambera Wellman’s current show Darkling (until 25 October) emits a sense of impending doom: her blurry, mutating figures seem to wrestle with a world in breakdown. German artist Florian Krewer sees his exhibition cold tears released at Michael Werner gallery (until 1 November) as a response to “the world feeling more heavy, more depressing and politically more conservative”, he says. By contrast, Greek-born Sofia Mitsola’s vibrant mythology offers a glimpse of paradise (albeit laced with a deadly siren call), and a sense of the sublime emanates from the Rococo interpretations of Flora Yukhnovich (seen in a new mural at The Frick in New York this autumn). Alabama-born artist Verne Dawson, meanwhile, paints a realistic kind of Eden.

Read it all.

What does the afterlife look like? https://t.co/sbYrnVccNK

— HTSI (@htsi) September 25, 2025

From there:

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.

La Résurrection du Christ

Charles Le Brun pic.twitter.com/mztOTM8ozw

— Histoire de France (@HistoiredeFran7) April 17, 2022

From here:

No other word in all our vocabulary is more expressive of the message of Christ than the word “resurrection.” At Calvary the little band of disciples watched their Lord Jesus die, and they saw His broken body taken from the cross. Earlier, one of them had betrayed Him for 30 pieces of silver. Another had cursed and had sworn that he never knew Him. Most of them, turning and running for their lives, had forsaken Him. When Jesus’ body was placed in the tomb and the stone was rolled against it, it seemed that this was the end of all their hopes.

Then came Easter morning, and the midnight of despair was turned into glorious dawning. It was the resurrection of all their hopes.

But Calvary does not tell the whole story. Jesus died for all our sins, but the Bible says that Jesus “was raised again for our justification.”(9)

Several years ago I talked with Chancellor Adenauer, of Germany, and he asked me, “Do you believe that Jesus Christ is alive?”

I replied, “Yes, I do.”

He said, “So do I. If Jesus Christ is not alive, then I see no hope for the world. It is the fact of the resurrection that gives me hope for the future.” As he spoke those words, his eyes lighted up.

Indeed, the resurrection of Christ is the only hope of the world: “If Christ be not risen, then our hopes and dreams and faith are in vain.”(10) “The resurrection of Christ is the only hope of the world.”

But Christ is alive. And because He is alive, that makes all the difference in the world. In His resurrection evil has been defeated, Satan has been defeated, death has lost its sting, love has conquered hate, God has accepted the atoning work of Christ on the cross, and all of creation bursts forth in a new song. Because Christ is alive, we can face death with confidence.

Resurrection of Christ (c. 1700), by Noël Coypel pic.twitter.com/N5zAGOP8rs

— Classical Art (@SeekAfterBeauty) April 20, 2025

Christ himself pointed out the benefit of his sufferings and resurrection when he said to the women in Mt 28, 10 – “Fear not: go tell my brethren that they depart into Galilee, and there shall they see me.” These are the very first words they heard from Christ after his resurrection from the dead, by which he confirmed all the former utterances and loving deeds he showed them, namely, that his resurrection avails in our behalf who believe, so that he therefore anticipates and calls Christians his brethren, who believe it, and yet they do not, like the apostles, witness his resurrection.

The risen Christ waits not until we ask or call on him to become his brethren. Do we here speak of merit, by which we deserve anything? What did the apostles merit? Peter denied his Lord three times; the other disciples all fled from him; they tarried with him like a rabbit does with its young. He should have called them deserters, yea, betrayers, reprobates, anything but brethren. Therefore this word is sent to them through the women out of pure grace and mercy, as the apostles at the time keenly experienced, and we experience also, when we are mired fast in our sins, temptations and condemnation.

These are words full of all comfort that Christ receives desperate villains as you and I are and calls us his brethren. Is Christ really our brother, then I would like to know what we can be in need of? Just as it is among natural brothers, so is it also here. Brothers according to the flesh enjoy the same possessions, have the same father, the one inheritance, otherwise they would not be brothers: so we enjoy with Christ the same possessions, and have in common with him one Father and one inheritance, which never decreases by being distributed, as other inheritances do; but it ever grows larger and larger; for it is a spiritual inheritance. But an earthly inheritance decreases when distributed among many persons. He who has a part of this spiritual inheritance, has it all.

Read it all.

Resurrection day #EasterSunday
BL Add MS 19352; Theodore Psalter; 1066 CE; Eastern Mediterranean (Constantinople); f.146 @BLMedieval pic.twitter.com/5PUDFv3Ols

— Ennius (@red_loeb) April 20, 2025

“What do we hope for as Christians? What is the content of the Christian hope? Paul says in Romans 15, this wonderful verse, verse 13, may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit, you may abound in hope.

So, Christians are supposed to be people who abound in hope. And my question is, what is the content of that hope? We are talking, brothers and sisters, about heaven.

And since we’re going to be spending eternity there, it might be interesting if we give it a few moments of our time….”

You may listen directly here:

Or you may download it there.

Design for Christ Enthroned in the Heavenly Jerusalem, in the American Church in Rome. Attributed to Thomas Matthews Rooke (British, 1842–1942). Medium: pencil, watercolor and bodycolor heightened with gold on paper. Credit: Artnet. pic.twitter.com/nUafq2XaHu

— Archaeology & Art (@archaeologyart) January 17, 2025

So, how can we learn to live as wide-awake people, as Easter people? Here I have some bracing suggestion to make. I have to believe that many churches simply throw Easter away year by year; and I want to plead that we rethink how we do it so as to help each other, as a church and as individuals, to live what we profess.

For a start, consider Easter Day itself…Easter is about the wild delight of God’s creative power—…we ought to shout Alleluias instead of murmuring them; we should light every candle in the building instead of only some; we should give every man, woman, child, cat, dog, and mouse in the place a candle to hold; we should have a real bonfire; and we should splash water about as we renew our baptismal vows…It’s about the real Jesus coming out of the real tomb and getting God’s real new creation under way.

But my biggest problem starts on Easter Monday. I regard it as absurd and unjustifiable that we should spend forty days keeping Lent, pondering what it means, preaching about self-denial, being at least a little gloomy, and then bringing it all to a peak with Holy Week, which in turn climaxes in Maundy Thursday and Good Friday…and then, after a rather odd Holy Saturday, we have a single day of celebration.

…Easter week itself ought not to be the time when all the clergy sigh with relief and go on holiday. It ought to be an eight-day festival, with champagne served after morning prayer or even before, with lots of alleluias and extra hymns and spectacular anthems. Is it any wonder people find it hard to believe in the resurrection of Jesus if we don’t throw our hats in the air? Is it any wonder we find it hard to live the resurrection if we don’t do it exuberantly in our liturgies? Is it any wonder the world doesn’t take much notice if Easter is celebrated as simply the one-day happy ending tacked on to forty days of fasting and gloom?

…we should be taking steps to celebrate Easter in creative new ways: in art, literature, children’s games, poetry, music, dance, festivals, bells, special concerts, anything that comes to mind. This is our greatest festival. Take Christmas away, and in biblical terms you lose two chapters at the front of Matthew and Luke, nothing else. Take Easter away, and you don’t have a New Testament; you don’t have a Christianity; as Paul says, you are still in your sins…

…if Lent is a time to give things up, Easter ought to be a time to take things up….Christian holiness was never meant to be merely negative…. The forty days of the Easter season, until the ascension, ought to be a time to balance out Lent by taking something up, some new task or venture, something wholesome and fruitful and outgoing and self-giving. …if you really make a start on it, it might give you a sniff of new possibilities, new hopes, new ventures you never dreamed of. It might bring something of Easter into your innermost life. It might help you wake up in a whole new way. And that’s what Easter is all about.”

—Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church (New York: HarperCollins, 2008) pp. 255-257

Resurrection, 1510 #northernrenaissance #durer https://t.co/xaNvV2Dtzx pic.twitter.com/otZ5Az0E1F

— Albrecht Dürer (@artistdurer) September 7, 2022

This brings us to an increasingly relevant question: Can a computer lie? That leads directly to another hot-button question: Can a computer sin?

Well, a computer can be programmed — by sinful, fallen human beings — to twist facts or manipulate data to confuse or deceive people. But are these sins committed by the computers or the programmers? 

This isn’t a new question. In your mind, if you are of a certain age, flash back to 1968 and remember the voice of the HAL 9000 computer saying, “I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

The ultimate question is whether, at some point, flaws in the programming will merge with some kind of super Artificial Intelligence and the computers will, you know, start working their way through the whole Ten Commandments.

Read it all.

(ANALYSIS/@tweetmattingly) The Bible has lots to say about lying. It’s clear that lying is a sin. This brings us to an increasingly relevant question: Can a computer lie? That leads directly to another hot-button question: Can a computer sin? https://t.co/7kXY46xSAC

— Religion Unplugged (@ReligionMag) May 19, 2025

The silence: deafening. Broken only by an excruciating groan from the protesting joints of a wooden chair as one of those seated shifts their weight.

No one speaks. But volumes are communicated as ashamed, bloodshot and guilt-ridden eyes meet across the room and quickly withdraw.

Suddenly, a familiar voice, clear and strong, declares, “Peace be with you.”

As if the roof were ripped off the house and the noon day sun flooded the room so their hearts were engulfed in joy.

In one glorious moment their inconsolable sorrow was unexpectantly turned to inexpressible exultation.

Read it all.

Carl Heinrich Bloch,
The Resurrection, c.1881 pic.twitter.com/N2AYyMPnom

— Solas (@solas_na_greine) December 17, 2024

What links them together so that, all the same, they are the history of a single being, dying, dead and now rising again? A single world meaning, which has passed away and gone, to acquire new, eternal reality, presence and future in God? This is a problem of theological logic; perhaps it is the problem that the theologians have never attended to and that, if it were taken seriously, would threaten to throw into confusion all our beautiful Archimedean drawings on paper. And yet it is what is called the Logos tou staurou, the word and the message of the Cross, by Paul, who, in Corinth, renounces all other worldly and divine wisdom because God himself “will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the cleverness of the clever. . . . Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? . . . I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” Risen too, of course, the “firstfruits of the dead”. Yes, he, he is the continuity for which we have been looking, the connecting thread linking ruin and rising, which does not break even in death and hell. He it is who walks along paths that are no paths, leaving no trace behind, through hell, hell which has no exit, no time, no being; and by the miracle from above he is rescued from the abyss, the profound depths, to save his brothers in Adam along with him.

And now there is something like a bridge over this rift: on the basis of the grace of the Resurrection there is the Church’s faith, the faith of Mary; there is the prayer at the grave, the faithful watching and waiting. It is a lightly built bridge, and yet it suffices to carry us. What it spans, however, is not some indifferent medium but the void of everlasting death. Nor can we compare the two sides as if from some higher vantage point; we cannot bring the two together in some rational, logical context by using some method, some process of thought, some logic: for the one side is that of death in God-forsakenness, and the other is that of eternal life. So we have no alternative but to trust in him, knowing, as we walk across the bridge, that he built it. Because of his grace we have been spared the absolute abyss, and yet, as we proceed across the bridge, we are actually walking alongside it, this most momentous of all transformations; we do not observe it, but can only be seized and pulled into it, to be transformed from dead people into resurrected people. May the sign of this transformation be found on our Janus destiny. May its mark be branded on each of our works, those that come to an end inexplicably and those that, inexplicably, are resurrected through grace. Their two faces can never meet; they can never behold each other, and we can never link up the two ends because the rope across the chasm is too short. So we must put it into God’s hand: only his fingers can join our broken parts into a whole.

Read it all.

'Rise heart; thy Lord is risen…
I got me flowers to straw thy way;
I got me boughs off many a tree:
But thou wast up by break of day,
And brought'st thy sweets along with thee'
(Herbert)
🤍🤍🤍Happy Easter!🤍🤍🤍#Easter2025 pic.twitter.com/d8Xz66d83P

— Beatrice Groves (@beatricegroves1) April 20, 2025

You may download it there or listen to it directly there from Saint Philip’s, Charleston, South Carolina.

The Resurrection of Christ (1499–1502), by Raphael. The work is one of the earliest known paintings by the artist, the São Paulo Museum of Art. pic.twitter.com/zelBqnjr9A

— 🌿_ (@rebeca6169) April 3, 2021

You may listen directly here:

Or you may download it there.

Happy #Easter! Commemorating the Resurrection of Christ after his Crucifixion on Good Friday, Easter is one of the most important Christian holidays. This dynamic drawing by Rubens from 1614 shows Jesus rising from the tomb pic.twitter.com/0XiN1fMvFI

— British Museum (@britishmuseum) April 1, 2018

‘It ought to be noticed at this stage that the Christian doctrine, if accepted, involves a particular view of Death. There are two attitudes towards Death which the human mind naturally adopts. One is the lofty view, which reached its greatest intensity among the Stoics, that Death ‘doesn’t matter’, that it is ‘kind nature’s signal for retreat’, and that we ought to regard it with indifference. The other is the ‘natural’ point of view, implicit in nearly all private conversations on the subject, and in much modern thought about the survival of the human species, that Death is the greatest of all evils: Hobbes is perhaps the only philosopher who erected a system on this basis. The first idea simply negates, the second simply affirms, our instinct for self-preservation; neither throws any new light on Nature, and Christianity countenances neither. Its doctrine is subtler. On the one hand Death is the triumph of Satan, the punishment of the fall, and the last enemy. Christ shed tears at the grave of Lazarus and sweated blood in Gethsemane: the Life of Lives that was in Him detested this penal obscenity not less than we do, but more. On the other hand, only he who loses his life will save it. We are baptized into the death of Christ, and it is the remedy for the fall. Death is, in fact, what some modern people call ‘ambivalent’. It is Satan’s great weapon and also God’s great weapon: it is holy and unholy; our supreme disgrace and our only hope; the thing Christ came to conquer and THE MEANS BY WHICH HE CONQUERED.’

–Miracles, emphasis mine

Cecco di Caravaggio Resurrezione di Cristo 1619 pic.twitter.com/3UQBOzdJpN

— Ugo Ramella (@RamellaUgo) April 19, 2025

Fortifying the American home has become big business, selling escape tunnels, secret arsenals and even flammable moats. 

Ron Hubbard, the chief executive of Atlas Survival Shelters, runs one of many companies that designs and builds bunkers for wealthy clients. His business is booming.

A 2023 survey found that about one-third of American adults were prepping for a doomsday scenario, spending a collective $11 billion over 12 months.

Read it all

From underground bunkers to luxury panic rooms, doomsday prepping is no longer fringe — it’s a booming billion-dollar industry reshaping how Americans face the future.#US https://t.co/mKWKQFO9iK

— Al Mayadeen English (@MayadeenEnglish) April 14, 2025

‘There seems to be a kind of conspiracy, especially among middle-aged writers of vaguely liberal tendency, to forget, or to conceal, where the doctrine of Hell comes from. One finds frequent references to the “cruel and abominable mediaeval doctrine of hell,” or “the childish and grotesque medieval imagery of physical fire and worms.”…But the case is quite otherwise; let us face the facts. The doctrine of hell is not ” medieval”: it is Christ’s. It is not a device of “mediaeval priestcraft” for frightening people into giving money to the church: it is Christ’s deliberate judgment on sin. The imagery of the undying worm and the unquenchable fire derives, not from “mediaeval superstition,” but originally from the Prophet Isaiah, and it was Christ who emphatically used it. . . . It confronts us in the oldest and least “edited” of the gospels: it is explicit in many of the most familiar parables and implicit in many more: it bulks far larger in the teaching than one realizes, until one reads the Evangelists [gospels] through instead of picking out the most comfortable texts: one cannot get rid of it without tearing the New Testament to tatters. We cannot repudiate Hell without altogether repudiating Christ.‘ 

–Dorothy Leigh Sayers, Introductory Papers on Dante (Harper: London, 1954), pp. 44-45

For the evening crowd: I wrote something about Dorothy Sayers and motherhood, today at the Arena blog @Current_Pub1 https://t.co/EpUZbl32vf pic.twitter.com/PcKbCTcsQ7

— Nadya Williams (@NadyaWilliams81) July 1, 2023

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is hell.

–C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves (London: Geoffrey Bles, 1960), pp. 138-139

22 November 1963: Author and academic Clive Staples (“CS”) Lewis died. (aged 64). He’s best known for his works of fiction, especially The Screwtape Letters, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Space Trilogy. pic.twitter.com/oR0QlTIZwd

— Frank McDonough (@FXMC1957) November 22, 2024

As Meagan Gillmore reported for CT earlier this month, one Canadian pastor said, “I think one of the strongest reasons why MAID has a lot of traction generally in our society is that nobody wants to talk about death.”

For years, I’d wondered how we could change the conversation and equip our patients to walk toward the inevitable. Then one day, in my reading of various books on the subject, I came across a concept known as the ars moriendi, which is Latin for “art of dying.”

I discovered an entire genre of literature—500-years’ worth of ars moriendi handbooks—on how to die well. The earliest version developed in the early 1400s after the bubonic plague, or Black Death, swept through Western Europe, leaving half the population dead.

The central theme of this genre was that dying well is very much wrapped up in how we live. If we want to die well, we have to live well. That includes cultivating a life of virtue, nurturing our communities, and attending to questions of salvific and eternal importance.

Read it all.

On Nov. 1, mourning and celebrating All Saints Day https://t.co/ToVrRcVCtn

— Marvin Olasky (@MarvinOlasky) November 1, 2024

The reason climate change is so difficult to talk about is that bringing up any one issue is like pulling on a thread in a spiderweb: Every other thread in the web vibrates in response. We feel powerless to effect the changes we would like to see when simply meeting the needs of each day feels like an uphill battle. And so, the anxiety builds—until the anxiety itself feels like part of the avalanche threatening to tumble down on us. Is there any hope at all?

The short answer is yes. In fact, I think this is the time for radical hope. I first encountered this term in Jonathan Lear’s excellent book Radical Hope: Ethics in the Face of Cultural Devastation. Lear explores the history of the Crow tribe in the mid-1800s as they responded to the changes brought by western settlement of their territories in Montana.

The key figure in the book is the Crow chieftain Plenty Coups, who spent his life leading his people through those often-traumatic changes with one key insight: The old nomadic way of life chasing the buffalo was inescapably and irretrievably lost. How could his people hope when the very possibility of a meaningful Crow life was being destroyed? They had to learn to live a new way of life. Even their core values, like what it meant to be courageous, had to be re-formed in a culture where traditional warrior acts of courage were illegal.

Radical hope, then, is the hope that is formed when all our previous hopes are gone. Radical hope was the kind God provided the Israelite exiles….

Read it all.

Climate change is a “wickedly complex problem,” writes a lecturer in science and religion.

Radical hope in the face of it “means settling down in our own exile and waiting for God’s promise to be fulfilled beyond the scope of our own lifetimes.”https://t.co/JrkRSyYFlP

— Christianity Today (@CTmagazine) October 26, 2024

“Imagine you have an invisible recorder around your neck that, for all your life, records every time you say to somebody else, “You ought.” It only turns on when you tell somebody else how to live. In other words, it only records your own moral standards as you seek to impose them on other people. It records nothing except what you believe is right or wrong.

And what if God, on judgment day, stands in front of people and says, “You never heard about Jesus Christ and you never read the Bible, but I’m a fair-minded God. Let me show you what I’m going to use to judge you.” Then he takes that invisible recorder from around your neck and says, “I’m going to judge you by your own moral standards.”

And God plays the recording. There’s not a person on the face of the earth who will be able to pass that test. I’ve used that illustration for years now and nobody ever wants to challenge it. Nobody ever says, “I live according to my standards!” This is the biggest problem of the human race. We don’t need more books telling people how to live; people need the power to do what they don’t have the power to do.”

–Timothy Keller, Coming Home: Essays on the New Heaven and New Earth (Wheaton, Ill.: Crossway, 2017, ed. D A Carson), p.22, quoted by yours truly in yesterday’s adult Sunday school class

Timothy J. Keller, who was the founding pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City, co-founder of Redeemer City to City, and the author of several books, died at the age of 72 on May 19, trusting in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection. pic.twitter.com/Yoc1LpwZzf

— City to City (@RedeemerCTC) May 19, 2023

Jürgen Moltmann, a theologian who taught that Christian faith is founded in the hope of the resurrection of the crucified Christ and that the coming kingdom of God acts upon human history out of the eschatological future, died on June 3 in Tübingen, Germany. He was 98.

Moltmann is widely regarded as one of the most important theologians since World War II. According to theologian Miroslav Volf, his work was “existential and academic, pastoral and political, innovative and traditional, readable and demanding, contextual and universal,” as he showed how the central themes of Christian faith spoke to the “fundamental human experiences” of suffering.

The World Council of Churches reports that Moltmann is “the most widely read Christian theologian” of the last 80 years. Religion scholar Martin Marty said his writings “inspire an uncertain Church” and “free people from the dead hands of dead pasts.”

Moltmann was not an evangelical, but many evangelicals engaged deeply with his work. The popular Christian author Philip Yancey called Moltmann one of his heroes and said in 2005 that he had “plowed through” nearly a dozen of his books.

What Jürgen Moltmann learned from his time as a pastor: When the old farmers roll their eyes at you, your theology has gotten too abstract.

That and more in my @CTmagazine obit for the theologian of hope:https://t.co/RHSKJVKrKZ

— Daniel Silliman (@danielsilliman) June 5, 2024

First, LET THE STONE PREACH.
It is not at all an uncommon thing to find in Scripture stones bid to speak; great stones have been rolled as witnesses against the people; stones and beams out of the wall have been called upon to testify to sin. I shall call this stone as a witness to valuable truths of God of which it was the symbol. The river of our thought divides into six streams.

1. First, the stone rolled must evidently be regarded as the door of the sepulcher removed. Death’s house was firmly secured by a huge stone; the angel removed it, and the living Christ came forth. The massive door, you will observe, was taken away from the grave, not merely opened, but unhinged, flung aside, rolled away! And now death’s ancient prison is without a door! The saints shall pass in, but they shall not be shut in, they shall tarry there as in an open cavern, but there is nothing to prevent their coming forth from it in due time. As Samson, when he slept in Gaza, and was beset by foes, arose early in the morning, and took upon his shoulders the gates of Gaza—posts and bars and all—and carried all away, and left the Philistine stronghold open and exposed, so has it been done unto the grave by our Master, who, having slept out His three days and nights according to the divine decree, arose in the greatness of His strength, and bore away the iron gates of the sepulcher, tearing every bar from its place.

The removal of the imprisoning stone was the outward type of our Lord’s having plucked up the gates of the grave—posts, bars, and all, thus exposing that old fortress of death and hell, and leaving it as a city stormed, and taken, and bereft of power. Remember that our Lord was committed to the grave as a hostage. “He died for our sins.” Like a debt they were imputed to Him; He discharged the debt of obligation due from us to God on the cross; He suffered to the full the great substitutionary equivalent for our suffering, and then He was confined in the tomb as a hostage until His work should be fully accepted. That acceptance would be notified by His coming forth from vile imprisonment, and that coming forth would become our justification! “He rose again for our justification.” If He had not fully paid the debt, He would have remained in the grave; if Jesus had not made effectual, total, final atonement, He would have continued a captive. But He had done it all! The “It is finished,” which came from His own lips, was established by the verdict of Jehovah, and Jesus was set free. Mark Him as He rises—not breaking out of prison like a felon who escapes from justice, but coming leisurely forth like one whose time of release from jail is come. Rising, it is true, by His own power, but not leaving the tomb without a sacred permit—the heavenly officer from the court of heaven is deputized to open the door for Him by rolling away the stone; and Jesus Christ completely justified, rises to prove that all His people are in Him completely justified, and the work of salvation is forever perfect!

Read it all.

Resurrezione di Cristo
Pieter Paul Rubens,1616
Galleria Palatina,Palazzo Pitti, Firenze
Happy Easter 🔔💙🔔@Asamsakti pic.twitter.com/8wfXWGjNOh

— Lucia Tassan Mangina🐦🇪🇺#FBPE (@LuciaTassan) April 4, 2015

“The third day he rose again from the dead.”

This article gives us the explanation of the foundation of our faith in our justification, in our resurrection and in our new life.

Once again we must insist on the fact that we are not dealing with illustrations, or with exaggerations of some religious enthusiasm. If it is said: he has overcome and swallowed death, broken the chains of the devil and destroyed his power, this is so: it is done with, it is accomplished. After Christ’s resurrection death is no more, nor does sin rule. Indeed death and sin continue to exist, but as vanquished things.

Their situation is similar to a chess player’s who has already lost but has not acknowledged it as yet. He looks on the game, and he says: Is it already finished? Does the king still have another move? He tries it. Afterwards he acknowledges there was no more possibility of winning.

That precisely is the situation of death and sin and the devil: the king is checkmated, the game is finished and the players do not acknowledge it as yet. They still believe the game will go on. But it is over. The old aeon, the old time of death and sin is over, and the game only appears somehow to be going on. “The old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

You must note this down: you take it or leave it. Such is Easter, or it is nothing at all.

–Karl Barth–The Faith of the Church: A Commentary on the Apostles’ Creed According to Calvin’s Catechism (Eugene, Oregon: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2006 E.T. of the original by Gabriel Vahanian), p. 104

A recently discovered early Titian: 'Risen Christ' (1511). Happy Easter. pic.twitter.com/CPXc3plyh4

— Burlington Magazine (@BurlingtonMag) April 5, 2015

We can say that the story of the Resurrection means simply that the teachings of Jesus are immortal like the plays of Shakespeare or the music of Beethoven and that their wisdom and truth will live on forever. Or we can say that the Resurrection means that the spirit of Jesus is undying, that he himself lives on among us, the way that Socrates does, for instance, in the good that he left behind him, in the lives of all who follow his great example. Or we can say that the language in which the Gospels describe the Resurrection of Jesus is the language of poetry and that, as such, it is not to be taken literally but as pointing to a truth more profound than the literal. Very often, I think, this is the way that the Bible is written, and I would point to some of the stories about the birth of Jesus, for instance, as examples; but in the case of the Resurrection, this simply does not apply because there really is no story about the Resurrection in the New Testament. Except in the most fragmentary way, it is not described at all. There is no poetry about it. Instead, it is simply proclaimed as a fact. Christ is risen! In fact, the very existence of the New Testament itself proclaims it. Unless something very real indeed took place on that strange, confused morning, there would be no New Testament, no Church, no Christianity.

Yet we try to reduce it to poetry anyway: the coming of spring with the return of life to the dead earth, the rebirth of hope in the despairing soul. We try to suggest that these are the miracles that the Resurrection is all about, but they are not. In their way they are all miracles, but they are not this miracle, this central one to which the whole Christian faith points.

Unlike the chief priests and the Pharisees, who tried with soldiers and a great stone to make themselves as secure as they could against the terrible possibility of Christ’s really rising again from the dead, we are considerably more subtle. We tend in our age to say, “Of course, it was bound to happen. Nothing could stop it.” But when we are pressed to say what it was that actually did happen, what we are apt to come out with is something pretty meager: this “miracle” of truth that never dies, the “miracle” of a life so beautiful that two thousand years have left the memory of it undimmed, the “miracle” of doubt turning into faith, fear into hope. If I believed that this or something like this was all that the Resurrection meant, then I would turn in my certificate of ordination and take up some other profession. Or at least I hope that I would have the courage to.

–Frederick Buechner, The Alphabet of Grace (New York: Harper and Row, 1970)

Everyone is welcome to attend ‘Alleluia! Christ is Risen: An Easter Carol Service’, taking place 28 April.

📅28 April 2024, 17:00. No booking required.

📷: Martin Cook pic.twitter.com/7nQM5a7JSO

— Salisbury Cathedral (@SalisburyCath) April 25, 2024

From there:

Whoever is a devout lover of God, let him enjoy this beautiful bright Festival!

Whoever is a grateful servant, let him rejoice and enter into the joy of his Lord!

And if any be weary with fasting, let him now enjoy what he has earned.

If any have toiled from the first hour, let him receive his due reward.

If any have come after the third hour, let him with gratitude join in the Feast.

If any have come after the sixth hour, let him not doubt, for he too shall be deprived of nothing.

And if any have delayed to the ninth hour, let him not hesitate, but let him come too.

And he that has arrived only at the eleventh hour, let him not be troubled over his delay, for the Lord is gracious, and received the last even as the first.

He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour as well as to him that has toiled from the first.

Yea, to this one he gives, to that one he bestows; he honors the former’s work; the latter’s intent he praises.

Let all then enter the joy of our Lord!

Read it all.

Happy Easter all! From the exuberant brush and generous heart of early American ex-pat painter Benjamin West. pic.twitter.com/AF64WLmTxD

— Kathleen Helewa (@KathleenHelewa) April 12, 2020

You may listen directly here

or you may download it on spotify there.

Willem Drost (19 April 1633 – 25 February 1659) was a Dutch painter.Saint John pic.twitter.com/qEIhl182eK

— Yiannis Einstein-Ιωάννης Αρβανιτάκης (@yianniseinstein) March 30, 2020

So, how can we learn to live as wide-awake people, as Easter people? Here I have some bracing suggestion to make. I have to believe that many churches simply throw Easter away year by year; and I want to plead that we rethink how we do it so as to help each other, as a church and as individuals, to live what we profess.

For a start, consider Easter Day itself…Easter is about the wild delight of God’s creative power—…we ought to shout Alleluias instead of murmuring them; we should light every candle in the building instead of only some; we should give every man, woman, child, cat, dog, and mouse in the place a candle to hold; we should have a real bonfire; and we should splash water about as we renew our baptismal vows…It’s about the real Jesus coming out of the real tomb and getting God’s real new creation under way.

But my biggest problem starts on Easter Monday. I regard it as absurd and unjustifiable that we should spend forty days keeping Lent, pondering what it means, preaching about self-denial, being at least a little gloomy, and then bringing it all to a peak with Holy Week, which in turn climaxes in Maundy Thursday and Good Friday…and then, after a rather odd Holy Saturday, we have a single day of celebration.

…Easter week itself ought not to be the time when all the clergy sigh with relief and go on holiday. It ought to be an eight-day festival, with champagne served after morning prayer or even before, with lots of alleluias and extra hymns and spectacular anthems. Is it any wonder people find it hard to believe in the resurrection of Jesus if we don’t throw our hats in the air? Is it any wonder we find it hard to live the resurrection if we don’t do it exuberantly in our liturgies? Is it any wonder the world doesn’t take much notice if Easter is celebrated as simply the one-day happy ending tacked on to forty days of fasting and gloom?

…we should be taking steps to celebrate Easter in creative new ways: in art, literature, children’s games, poetry, music, dance, festivals, bells, special concerts, anything that comes to mind. This is our greatest festival. Take Christmas away, and in biblical terms you lose two chapters at the front of Matthew and Luke, nothing else. Take Easter away, and you don’t have a New Testament; you don’t have a Christianity; as Paul says, you are still in your sins…

…if Lent is a time to give things up, Easter ought to be a time to take things up….Christian holiness was never meant to be merely negative…. The forty days of the Easter season, until the ascension, ought to be a time to balance out Lent by taking something up, some new task or venture, something wholesome and fruitful and outgoing and self-giving. …if you really make a start on it, it might give you a sniff of new possibilities, new hopes, new ventures you never dreamed of. It might bring something of Easter into your innermost life. It might help you wake up in a whole new way. And that’s what Easter is all about.”

—Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church (New York: HarperCollins, 2008) pp. 255-257

Giovanni Baglione, sketch for the (not lost) altarpiece of the Resurrection for Il Gesu. Criticism of the painting by a.o. Caravaggio and Orazio Gentileschi in 1603 ("it's the worst he's done", "clumsy") caused Bagione to file a suit for libel which he won. pic.twitter.com/MT94uEise4

— Rembrandt's R👀m 🖌 (@RembrandtsRoom) November 5, 2018

In this tomb, also, you may see, A pledge to us…Yes, verily, it is a pledge,

Of Christ’s power to raise us to a spiritual life -The resurrection of Christ is set forth in the Scriptures as a pattern of that which is to be accomplished in all his followers; and by the very same power too, that effected that. In the Epistle to the Ephesians, St. Paul draws the parallel with a minuteness and accuracy that are truly astonishing. He prays for them, that they may know what is the exceeding greatness of God’s power to us-ward who believe, according to the working of his mighty power which he wrought in Christ when he raised him from the dead, and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places.” And then he says, concerning them, “God, who is rich in mercy, of his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, and hath raised us usi together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus^” Here, I say, you see Christ dead, quickened, raised, and seated in glory; and his believing people quickened from their death in sins, and raised with him, and seated too with him in the highest heavens. The same thing is stated also, and the same parallel is drawn in the Epistle to the Romans ; where it is said, “We are buried with Christ by baptism into death; that, like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.” But can this be effected in us ? I answer, Behold the tomb ! Who raised the Lord Jesus? He himself said, ” I have power to lay down my life, and power to take it up again….”

–Horae homileticae, Sermon 1414

Here, in their very midst was the author of Life, bringing to them the word of his peace. And that is not all: not just a mending, but something greater than they could ever think or imagine was about to happen. He gives to them a new commission. Adam and Eve had been told to govern and protect the created order as God’s custodians. But this one true human being, this Jesus, this One who is truly God, truly the Son of Man, calls a new family into his service: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” From now on the job would be not simply to care for creation, not just a work of maintenance. Rather, his disciples are enfolded, made part of the Father’s work of restoration. They are to go, to heal, to restore what has been lost, to seek those who have been lost.

Such a role may seem too great for humankind. After all, it is God himself who is the shepherd of the sheep. But here we are at the dawn of a new creation, a new era in which God’s people are being called no longer simply servants—though servants we are—but FRIENDS. Who is up for this task? The answer is, of course, not one of us. That is why Jesus does not simply give his disciples instructions. He also gives them his very life.

Think again about the Narnia chronicles. What is it that Aslan does as soon as he has won, with the stone table cracked, the bonds broken and the deep magic accomplished? Why, he visits the dungeon of the White Witch, and begins to breathe upon those who have been petrified, frozen by her evil. He breathes, and they are restored back to life. What Jesus does here on that first Easter evening is even greater: not only does he breathe to restore the disciples back to life. No, he does more. He says to them “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Back at Eden, God gave to humankind the breath of life. Now God the Son hands over to his disciples the One who is in Himself the Breath of new life, the very Spirit of God. Not merely a life force, but the Lord of Life comes to be with these frightened disciples: and they will never be the same. It is as though Aslan had breathed upon a stone cat and made him not merely a living creature but a little lion, bursting with the same vigor of the great Aslan himself, ready to do the work of freeing and bringing joy to those in darkness and in prison.

Read it all.

The Incredulity of Saint Thomas
oil on canvas
107 cm x 146 cm
ca. 1601
Schloss Sanssouci, Potsdam

Caravaggio#Caravaggio #SchlossSanssouci #MichelangeloMerisi #Potsdam pic.twitter.com/JSAjrYcj3Y

— stea.art (@stea_art) April 3, 2021

From here:

No other word in all our vocabulary is more expressive of the message of Christ than the word “resurrection.” At Calvary the little band of disciples watched their Lord Jesus die, and they saw His broken body taken from the cross. Earlier, one of them had betrayed Him for 30 pieces of silver. Another had cursed and had sworn that he never knew Him. Most of them, turning and running for their lives, had forsaken Him. When Jesus’ body was placed in the tomb and the stone was rolled against it, it seemed that this was the end of all their hopes.

Then came Easter morning, and the midnight of despair was turned into glorious dawning. It was the resurrection of all their hopes.

But Calvary does not tell the whole story. Jesus died for all our sins, but the Bible says that Jesus “was raised again for our justification.”(9)

Several years ago I talked with Chancellor Adenauer, of Germany, and he asked me, “Do you believe that Jesus Christ is alive?”

I replied, “Yes, I do.”

He said, “So do I. If Jesus Christ is not alive, then I see no hope for the world. It is the fact of the resurrection that gives me hope for the future.” As he spoke those words, his eyes lighted up.

Indeed, the resurrection of Christ is the only hope of the world: “If Christ be not risen, then our hopes and dreams and faith are in vain.”(10) “The resurrection of Christ is the only hope of the world.”

But Christ is alive. And because He is alive, that makes all the difference in the world. In His resurrection evil has been defeated, Satan has been defeated, death has lost its sting, love has conquered hate, God has accepted the atoning work of Christ on the cross, and all of creation bursts forth in a new song. Because Christ is alive, we can face death with confidence.

On the Third Sunday of Easter, and on the two that follow before the Ascension, the Church exhorts us to rejoicing and exultation for the Resurrection and Ascension of Christ, wherefore the Introit of this Sunday begins, ‘Shout with joy to God, all the earth.’ pic.twitter.com/2eBeSAmisg

— Ninefold Kyrie (@Gda1238) April 13, 2024