From the Pastor – April 2025

An Open Letter To The Open Grave:

O grave, what happened?  Were you so sure of yourself like all the other times?  Was your trust in your walls or in your stone rolled in front to shut your mouth and seal your prey within?  Are you still so sure, even today?  And if so, Why?  Is it the coffin that gives you courage, the dirt that stands you straight, the darkness that assures you with a whisper in your ears that, “You’re still the greatest?”  …  O grave, none of that matters any longer.  Your stone has been rolled away and a man has walked out from your grasp.  Where is the victory in that?  Where is the sting?  Your power is death, but your power was undone the very moment that man awoke from His peaceful slumber.

O surely you closed your mouth tight that night, certain that you had swallowed this man whole.  Closed your eyes to drift off to sleep until eternity, confident that this man was yours.  For who had ever walked out of you before?  …  Yes, there was Lazarus.  That had to sting.  But you had the man who called Lazarus out from the tomb, in your icy grip.  Who was there to call Him forth?  Victory was so sure, so certain.  But then in an instant, you lost Him, too.  How could you let Him slip through your fingers?  I know, I know, it’s not all your fault, and there is only so much you can do.  Even if you appear to be so strong, so powerful, so impenetrable, looks can be deceiving I suppose; especially when it is the Lord of life who has His way with you.

I know He was laid inside of you lifeless and still.  No one could blame you for believing that you had won the day once again.  But don’t you see?  His death has undone you, or better said, you had not the power to hold Him.  The God of all creation isn’t beholden to you.  He holds all authority in heaven and on earth, which means that you are subject to Him.  And He will even use you to accomplish what He desires.  …  And so in the most mocking of ways, He has turned you against yourself.  He has used you for your own undoing.  O’ Grave, how foolish you are to think that you still are anything ever since Jesus left you to rot in the dust.

And yet somehow, even now, you puff out your chest as if you are undefeated in this thing we call death.  But let me let you in on a little secret, “You’re dead.  You just don’t know it yet.”  I know, I know, we still weep at the sight of you, but that isn’t because you are anything.  For although we still shed a tear as our loved ones are laid to rest within your emptiness, we do not weep as those who have no hope.  For our Lord has defeated you, which means that the victory is ours.  …  So tell me, O once great Grave, how does it feel to be used against your will in order to safely house the bodies of God’s saints in peaceful slumber until He comes again?

So cling on to whatever power you think you have left, O Grave, for there will be a day, a day which fast approaches, in which you will be forced to spew out of your mouth all of those you have swallowed up.  For you are dead, O Death and your grave is your very own tomb.  …  Don’t you know that Christ is risen?  That He is no longer inside of you?  For we sure do.  And because He lives, so too shall we, so too do we.  Even if our bodies must lie within you for a short time, our souls will be with our Lord, eagerly awaiting the Promised Last Day in which your walls are destroyed forever and our bodies are raised to new life in the One who defeated you.

So do your worst O Death, O Grave, your time is short, is in fact already come to an end, for He is Risen!  …  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  …  In the name of Jesus.  Amen!