A temple is a place where heaven and earth come mighty close together. In the aftermath of his crucifixion and resurrection, Jesus is building a new temple, a new place for sacrifice, a new place for reconciliation with God. But it’s not coming in the forms of bricks and mortar. It’s not fundamentally coming by building an organization or an institution. It is coming in you and me, “living stones,” who together, as one body, are being constructed together into a home for God and a place for sacrifice, a thin space where this physical world meets the love of almighty God.

For all the bigness of the gospel, for all the grand proclamations that Jesus is drawing all things to himself, his way of sharing that news is surprisingly small. Jesus is at work in the local. The Church that is committed to the Jesus message and the Jesus method will be deeply committed to local. As my (Pastor Sam) grandmother once told me, “A pastor should smell like his congregation.”

The gospel stories of Easter aren’t merely recounting “what happened.” They show us the first moments of a new world breaking into the old. On the road to Emmaus, two disciples can't recognize the risen Christ because they were looking for victory in the ways of the old world. When the open the Scriptures and break the bread, they recognize Christ, who has brought new life that has defeated death. And that changes them forever. So it is with us.

Before Jesus sends the apostles to the world or gives them work to do, he gives them an experience of Himself. Because before anything changes out there, something has to change in me. God renews the world, beginning in the hearts of people. Peter describes it in 1 Peter—a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. That is not a metaphor for self-improvement. It is a way of saying that the very life of God has been breathed into us.

Faith compels Mary to be at the tomb even without hope, to be faithful without “purpose.” And it is precisely that faithfulness that places her at the moment the light of the world is revealed. In her darkness, she kept moving. And so did God.

While it was still dark, Jesus had already risen from the dead, and the risen Christ was already moving towards her, closer than she could know. While Mary is in despair, Jesus was already risen. While Mary is weeping beside the tomb, Jesus was already risen. While it’s still dark, God was at work. And so it is still.

At Christmas, we confess Jesus is fully human, and fully God. The payoff for that doctrine is Good Friday. On the cross, the full brokenness of our humanity – the Roman soldiers and Judas’ betrayal and Peter’s denial and Pilate and Caiaphas’ cowardice, and every sin and every sickness and every disappointment and every injustice and every violence and every war – is present here. WHILE AT THE SAME TIME all of the love of God – his humiliation to become human and his counting of the hairs on your head and the tears he sheds with us and the life he promises to give us and his great love that lays itself down - is present here as well. Today, all things human and all things divine collapse into a single thing, a singularity, where ALL sin meets ALL God’s love.

On Palm Sunday, Jesus is proclaimed as King. But he is a servant king. Jesus shows his power. But it is the power of co-suffering love. Jesus is proclaimed as liberator. But it is by his cruel execution that we are saved.

So let us cry Hosanna, save us! Save us from our own predispositions to power and rivalry, the small ways we manipulate and strongarm. Hosanna, save us from a world that, for all its promises of a better way, seems determined to steal, kill, and destroy. Hosanna, save us, give us the mind of Christ, who came not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

There is no personal call to Christian faith that isn’t a call to the community of believers. Catechesis is a community project. That is the purpose and work of worship. We gather to be shaped together by Christ for life like Christ. This stands in opposition to how we generally talk about worship, evaluating through a consumerist lens, which says church is ultimately a product to be consumed. But the Church aims its work not at our personal desires, but the cross of Christ. So we ask not what “works for us” but what “works on us."