Here it is, two weeks later, and we’re still talking about Easter, bright with joy.  Christ is alive!  The tomb stands empty to the sky.  It’s good to talk about Easter, and to keep talking about it, keep rejoicing in it, keep sharing it.  We are an Easter people.

Jesus appears among his faithful and says to them, “Peace be with you”  (24:36).  Oh yes please, Amen.  We want peace.  We want the conflicts to end, the storm, the worries, the stress.  We want rest.  We want calm.  It seems we’ve got to remember, though, that calm is an active verb before it is an inert noun.  Calm is what we practice, what we can practice because peace is already here.  Peace, at least the way Jesus means it, the way God means for it to be for us, is not mainly the absence of conflict or stress.  Peace does not mean there are no difficulties or sorrows.  Peace, as God means for us, is the sure conviction that we will get through this, that we are not alone, that there is help, that what is better is on the way.  God will do it.  People who know such peace persevere.  Peace, like holiness, communicates.  A peaceful person can help bring peace into distress, so that the calm of trust may arise.

When Jesus offers his blessing of peace, he reminds us that, in him, we are reconciled to God, just as God wishes to be.  When Jesus offers his blessing of peace, he reminds us that, in him, God is providing all that makes for a flourishing, blessed life, here and hereafter.  But, the unpersuaded one thinks, that’s all just talk.  Let us pray persuasion and conviction shall come.  Persuasion is the Spirit, and the Spirit is God’s peace.  Let us pray and each of us recommit to demonstrating God’s peace in our own lives by living our faith, letting faith live in us.  We do that by deciding each day to put faith first.  Faith is for change, from glory to glory.  No, peace is not yet perfected in us, but with the Spirit we can continue to refine that peace in us, among us.  The Church, this congregation, is a laboratory of God’s peace.  Thank God for the Church, for this congregation of the church.  May it always be a blessing to be here.  What sorrow I feel, for those who don’t avail themselves of what is offered here among us.

Luke tells us, that evening, Jesus suddenly there among them, the apostles thought “they saw a ghost” (24:37).  It wasn’t the first time they had that sudden, sinking fright.  There on the lake in the storm in the night, when they had basically given up after all their strenuous labor to save themselves, there, walking toward them, on the water, was what they were convinced was a ghost—come to guide them all down to the underworld, no doubt: the last thing they were ever going to see, the end.  Then the ghost calls out to them, and tells them not to be afraid.  Ha.  As if.  What?  Peace.  Remember God’s peace, with you and coming to you even when all seems lost, hopeless and helpless.

They didn’t know who the ghost on the water was, until they did, until they believed, until they responded to his call.  Now, there in the upper room, they knew it was Jesus, but still they were troubled, doubted (24:38).  And Jesus asks them why.  Because it’s impossible.  Because it isn’t true, just can’t be true.  Because such things don’t happen.  The dead stay dead.  While there is life there is hope, and you Jesus, you were dead.  Maybe Jesus was telling them that, even in death, hope remains?  Maybe he’s showing them faith, like love, is stronger than death?

Oh, the mind can play tricks on us, as we know, especially when we’re feeling afraid, insecure, alarmed, in danger.  An illusion.  Freud called religion an illusion.  Others think of it as a delusion, a crutch for weak people: all stories, children’s stories, like those children’s Bibles with which we grew up.  Happy pictures, simple words, and no sorrows.

Well, I suppose we all know that a ghost can be seen, can be heard, but I haven’t heard yet of anyone touching a ghost.  Jesus says to them, in invitation and command, “Look at my hands and my feet.  It is I myself!  Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have” (24:39).  Jesus has touched us.  Amen!  Let us touch Jesus; let us not lose touch with Jesus.  Let us lay hold of him for dear life.  The sad song sang, See from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down.  Now he’s showing his followers the sorrow is gone; all that’s left is love.  Touch God’s love for you, offered for you, held out for you.

Those apostles, though!  Still, can we blame them, after what they had seen, been through over the last few days?  One heart-wrenching blow after another, their best hopes and dreams dead with Jesus?  Remember, for almost all of them, this was their first encounter with Jesus after the crucifixion.  We’re not told that many of them, or any of them, were there for his hurried entombment.  But now, here was Jesus.  They knew it was Jesus.  The point wasn’t that it was Jesus, tremendous as that assuredly was.  The point Jesus is making, the thing Jesus wants them to observe and accept with full conviction is that Jesus again among them, with them, is not a ghost, an insubstantial spirit, but with them bodily, alive, breathing, walking, whole.

“And while they still did not believe it because of joy and amazement, he asked them, ‘Do you have anything here to eat?’  They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in their presence” (24:41-43).  If what you understood to be reality, inescapable, necessary reality, was suddenly shaken, so that it fell apart and what was always there all along behind the tapestry became visible, I suppose you might be amazed, too, maybe even joyful.  I just have to note that, what seals the deal, for them—it’s Jesus’ own idea—what convinces them that it really is Jesus with them in a real and true body, is food.  He eats and they believe.  We may have little experience with ghosts, but we know they don’t eat!  On this Communion Sunday, let us eat and believe too.  Eat in belief.  Drink in faith.  Receive in love, and peace.

Jesus reminds them that he had already told them all of this, that Scripture was telling them what is and must be.  They should have remembered.  They ought to have known that they already knew.  Well, events can distract us, paralyze us, cause us to think less than clearly and forget to remember.  Peace—peace is for calm, Christ’s calm.  If we would only learn to be calm with Christ’s calm.  He’s giving it to us, you know.  He offers it to us all the time, inviting us into prayer, inviting us into the Word, inviting us into him.  He is saying, hold on to me; let me be your anchor.  Life will shake you; I cannot be shaken.

As a preacher as well as a disciple who wants very much to live faithfully by faith, what Luke next tells us especially resonates.  Luke writes that, then, Jesus “opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures” (24:45).  Amen!  May it be so.  Note also, that their minds up to that point were not sufficiently opened so that they could understand the Scriptures.  Jesus had walked with them, spoken with them, performed deeds of divine power and grace in their presence, but it wasn’t until after his crucifixion and resurrection, it wasn’t until he was with them risen and glorified, that their minds could be open in the way it was necessary in order to understand.  Christ risen opens our minds so that we begin to understand.  Oh, let Christ rise!

The power of the Word makes the Word open to us.  I hope we’ve all had that experience.  You read the Bible once, twice, three times, feel sort of glad, kind of proud.  That’s okay, but then you read it again and something suddenly jumps out at you; you slow down and re-read it, as if why did I not notice this last time, as if, how did I not see that before; how could I have forgotten this, failed to remember this?  We can read.  Please read, often, repeatedly.  It’s Christ in the Spirit, risen and glorified, who opens our minds so that, as we read, Scripture speaks to us, begins speaking and reminds us that God really has real things to say to us, personally, speaking directly to our hearts as well as instructing our minds.

Jesus reminds them that all he went through, for them and for the rest of us, was necessary, always part of the plan, no accident or error.  The suffering and the victory.  The bloody death and the blessed life, risen, glorified, invincible, forever.  Scripture leads us into the mind and heart of God.  What a wonderful country in which to roam!

God does this for us.  He has something for us to do.  Praise and adoration in the sanctuary are beautiful and good, and then we take our praise and adoration out with us to share with others, as God nudges us, gives us hints, whispers, as by a still, small voice: “repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations [. . . .] You are witnesses of these things” (24:47-48).  Witness.  Testify.  That’s evangelism talk.  Ulp.  We can’t all be Billy Graham.  We don’t have to be.  But let us do keep ourselves available for when and how and with whom God wants to use us to share Christ.

Sharing faith doesn’t really have much to do with cold calls to strangers on street corners.  We wonder why we seem to have such limited success even when we do share.  Consider what Jesus is telling us to share, repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  Here’s what we are asking the other person to consider—more, to accept: this person must admit not only that he or she has done some rotten things—and yes, rotten things have been done to him or her—but admit that all this rot comes from within, because there is rot in all of us.  Confess that he or she needs forgiveness, above all God’s forgiveness.  That means this person must acknowledge there is some higher power, who wants people to be good and nice and play well with others.  More, confessing means we admit that the one who has been offended by the rot is God.  Seeking forgiveness from God means that a real relationship with God matters.  It means that, without that real relationship with the true and only God, we can only remain messed up messes.  Understand that forgiveness of sins doesn’t mean God is saying, Oh, it’s okay; forgiveness of sins is a person saying, God I am desperate for the help You only can give: clean me, change me, save me!

So, we should never be so puzzled when it seems as if whatever witnessing we do try doesn’t seem to meet with much success.  Those thousands coming to saving faith and joining the church in a single day that we read about in the first chapters of Acts, that was in the first days of the outpouring of the power, when many hearts were already ready for the Word, not so very long after Jesus had been walking the earth, talking with people.  You and I, we have only very limited ability to cause the hearts of others to become ready for the Word, open to the Word.  This is ultimately, really, the work of God, a work of the Holy Spirit.  Pray, then.  Pray about it.  Pray for the Spirit to be with you and guide you.  Pray also that the Spirit will have prepared those to whom you witness.  Until the Spirit has done His work in them, they cannot receive what you are offering.  They will not.

Jesus tells his faithful, his congregation, that he will “send you what my Father has promised” (24:49), that his faithful will be “clothed with power from on high” (24:49).  Well, that was for the apostles.  That was then.  As for us, well, we suppose our Pentecostal brothers and sisters seem to know more about it, feel more of it, than we Frozen Chosen, singing our frosty hymns and praying our hushed, icy prayers.  Nonsense.  Power from on high.  God’s power.  What is power?  Ability.  Without it we can’t; with it we can.  Can what?  Witness, proclaim, call, go, baptize, teach, pray, sing, love, worship, rejoice, serve, live—be the Church.

Does He really give us such power?  Isn’t this just a pep talk to go and do what we least of all like to do?  Beloved, Scripture assures us that we are in Christ.  Our life, now, is Christ’s life.  He is the head, directing the body.  We are his hands, his feet.  By his will, we move.  By his will, we work.  He is the power giving us ability.  Christ gives.  This table is a reminder for us.  We in Christ are called and reminded to know, to remember Christ in us.  The bread, the juice are signs, symbols.  There is nothing magical about them.  The bread as bread and the juice as juice have no special virtue or power.  All is by the Spirit, for the glory of God in His Church.  The Spirit, by faith, makes bread and juice Christ’s gift for us, Christ in us.  The blessing of ability.  No faith, no Christ, no power.  With faith, in Christ, we are able, to the praise of the glory of His name.