It begins in the quiet of early morning. Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb while it is still dark, drawn by grief, habit, and love. What she finds is not what she expected. The stone is rolled away. The body is missing. Confusion sets in. She runs to get help. Then Peter and the other disciple come running too, peering into the mystery but still not understanding.
So often, the church finds itself in a similar place, standing at the edge of something we cannot fully understand, still wrapped in the shadows of the world’s uncertainty, looking for signs of what God is doing next.
But what happens next in this story is at the very heart of our transformation as a community. Mary stays behind, weeping. And then, through her tears, she sees. First, angels. Then Jesus himself, standing right in front of her. At first she doesn’t recognize him. She thinks he’s the gardener. But when he calls her name, everything changes.
“Mary,” he says. And in that moment, the world shifts.
This moment of recognition isn’t just about Mary. It’s about all of us. The Risen Christ doesn’t just appear, he speaks. He calls her by name. And then he sends her out. “Go to my disciples,” he says, and tell them.
This is the moment when the church is born, not just in an upper room with wind and fire at Pentecost, but right here in the garden. In the face of sorrow and fear, Jesus offers a new beginning. Mary becomes the first witness, the first preacher, the first apostle to the apostles. Her life is transformed, and through her, the community begins to change.
That’s the power of resurrection, not just that Jesus is alive, but that his rising transforms the lives of those around him. This is what Lent and Easter are really about. Not just personal reflection, though that’s important. Not just a celebration of life over death, though that’s true. But the transformation of a community, ordinary people being sent out with extraordinary hope.
As an Easter people, we are called to this same kind of transformation. We are not only the ones who hear Jesus call our name, we are also the ones he sends. And that means the church is not just a place where we come to find comfort or routine. It’s a living body of Christ, where each of us is invited to be part of the ongoing story.
Transformation isn’t always flashy. Sometimes it’s as simple as a person deciding to volunteer with the altar guild, or someone taking the brave step to be a lector or intercessor for the first time. It’s a teenager choosing to be confirmed. It’s a long-time member mentoring a newcomer. It’s saying yes to the work of welcome, compassion, and service, even when we’re unsure what comes next.
Like Mary, we may not always recognize what God is doing at first. We may even mistake it for something else, something ordinary, like a gardener in the morning light. But when we pause and listen, when we hear Christ speaking our name through scripture, prayer, community, or worship, we are invited into something more. We are invited into resurrection.
And here’s the good news: this transformation doesn’t depend on having it all figured out. The early disciples were confused, frightened, and imperfect. But Jesus still called them. He still sent them. And through them, the church grew, not through certainty, but through faithful response.
This Easter season, we are reminded that the church is not a finished product. We are still becoming. We are still being transformed. The risen Christ still calls us, just as he called Mary. And he still sends us, just as he sent her.
So, what might resurrection look like in our parish community this year? What ministry is calling your name? Where might you step forward and offer your time, your presence, your gifts?
Perhaps it’s coming to the Wednesday community potluck or helping with children’s formation. Maybe it’s volunteering at Laundry Love, coming up with a new idea for ministry, or simply showing up with a heart ready to serve on Sundays. Whatever it is, know this: your “yes” is part of the church’s transformation.
Mary Magdalene didn’t know what she would find that morning, but she showed up. She listened. She responded. And through her, the world began to change.
May we do the same.
Kevin+
