Good news, oh, the chariot's coming
Good
news, the chariot's coming,
Yeah,
I don't want to be behind. (Spiritual)
Dear
sisters and brothers, this is one happy preacher writing this story. Why?
Because good news is coming soon! It's coming in the morning! Easter Sunday
morning!
Sunday
morning I will stand before the faithful, and a few who haven't been so
faithful, and announce: "I have good news to share!" The economy is
still hurting, health insurance is unaffordable, the world seems to be on the brink of war, but I have
good news to share. In spite of sickness, tragedy, natural disasters and
suffering, I have good news to share. The world is full of evil and hatred,
wars continue to escalate, terrorism lurks in the shadows, but I have good news
to share. The good news will reverberate from coast to coast, nation to nation,
ocean to ocean, and continent to continent. Christ is risen! He is risen
indeed! Alleluia!
I've
always been excited about Easter. One of my earliest childhood memories is
sitting with my dad on Easter Sunday on a folding chair on the front porch of
the sanctuary because there was no more room inside. I vividly remember the
bright Easter sun, the singing birds and the blooming flowers announcing the
good, glad, glorious news of the resurrection much more powerfully and
creatively than our pastor; bless his dear heart, who was droning away inside the building.
When
I was called to my first church I learned that I would not be preaching on
Easter Sunday. Dear Miss Louise, bless her dear heart, she had been the music
director at our church since the Reformation.
She informed me that Easter Sunday was reserved for the annual Easter
cantata. In the spirit of the Reformation I started to protest, but she, in the
spirit of the Inquisition, told me that all of those people who came to church
on Easter didn't want to be bored with a silly sermon. No sir! It was an Easter
cantata they wanted and an Easter cantata they would get.
I
cried that Easter Sunday. People thought I was moved by the cantata, but I was
crying because I thought I would have to move in order to preach an Easter
sermon. But the good Lord must have heard my cries because a couple of years
later he moved Miss Louise. Bless her dear heart, he sent the chariot for her
and I knew that good news was coming.
For
my first Easter sermon I went out and bought a stunning, three-piece polyester
light blue suit with matching patent leather blue shoes that shined so much you
could see yourself in the reflection. I worked up a mighty fine Easter sermon
and generously applied the Old Spice to drown out the Easter lilies and some
hair tonic to doctor up my hair. (The light blue suit, the blue shoes, the
sermon, and my hair have all disappeared, but I think I still have the Old
Spice.)
I
was so excited I barely slept Saturday night, but the next morning, Easter
Sunday, I stood in the pulpit looking like an Easter egg and smelling like a
barber shop, but just as happy as I could be. I couldn't tell you what I said,
but I had good news to share.
As
people sniffed the air and looked quizzically at my blue outfit, they told me
it was a good sermon. After locking all the doors to the church I walked out
into the bright Easter sun, heard the birds singing, saw the flowers blooming
and I realized that all creation was announcing the good, glad, glorious news
of the resurrection much more powerfully and creatively than I ever could, bless my dear
heart.
Christ
is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! That's good news to share!
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