When the Gospel writers tell the story of Jesus’ resurrection, they go to great pains to record the astonishment of the original hearers of the good news. Growing up in the church, I’ve heard this story so often that the amazement of the women at the tomb, of the disciples in the upper room, of Cleopas and his companion on the road to Emmaus is pretty much lost on me. Yeah, it’s good news, but it’s also old news.
The closest I’ve come to the astonishment of the disciples when they heard the good news of Jesus’ resurrection occurred the Easter my son was two. Jack’s Sunday School teacher had brought a huge bouquet of helium balloons and let each child choose one to take home. Jack chose red.
Proudly and joyfully, he carried his bobbing balloon down the church hallway to the Fellowship Hall, where Doug and I stopped to chat with our associate pastor, Steve, and his wife about our recent visit to Steve’s hometown. A few minutes into our conversation, Jack let out a piercing wail. He had let go of his balloon, and it floated to the top of the Fellowship Hall, some 12 feet above our heads…
Read the rest over at A Deeper Church.
