I was in my study at church early Easter morning, before anyone but the Facilities Manager had arrived.
Looking out at the empty parking lot, I wondered, “What if no one showed up this morning? What if no one came to celebrate Easter Sunday?”
Since I was immersed in John’s record of the resurrection, I pondered, “What if Mary hadn’t come to the tomb to find it empty? Then, she wouldn’t have run to tell Peter. How would he have known?”
If no one had come to see the empty tomb, if no one had observed those grave clothes folded up like they had been left there, mysteriously undisturbed, would the resurrection have been the resurrection we know?
What if the greatest event in all of history had gone completely unnoticed?
Would it have happened?
It’s like the age-old question, “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?”
I’ll bypass all the possible answers to that question and cut to the chase: the only conclusion that makes sense to me is, “Of course it would make a noise. Put a listening device there, and if the tree doesn’t happen to fall on it, it will record the sound.”
“Sound is a mechanical wave of pressure and displacement through a medium such as air or water. We don’t have to perceive a sound to know the laws of physics are in play,” is the statement from fact/myth.com, that sufficiently summarizes all the angles for me.
But, I have to grin at the observation Peter Cranny of Liverpool, UK, makes in response to the question about the tree falling in the forest. “An even older corollary,” he said, is this, “If a man speaks and there isn’t a woman to hear him, is he still wrong?” (theguardian.com)
At any rate, there were no motion detectors at Jesus’ gravesite. So, back to my Sunday morning musing: “What if no one had noticed the resurrection?”
Well, I suppose Jesus, the risen Savior, would have met the disciples in another way, had they not come to ground zero of the resurrection event— the empty tomb. After all, the disciples on the road to Emmaus weren’t looking for Jesus. Neither was the Apostle Paul, for that matter.
And neither was I, centuries after the event.
It’s like the boy who came forward in church one Sunday to profess his faith in Christ.
The Pastor asked him, “How did you get saved?”
“Well,” the little guy said, “I did my part, and God did his.”
That answer raised the eyebrows of the Pastor.
“And what was your part, and what was God’s part?” the Pastor inquired.
“My part was to run away from God as fast as my sinful legs and rebellious arms could take me,” the boy said. “And God’s part was to take after me and chase me down.”
In the resurrected Jesus Christ, God chased us down. He finds a way to find us, and if he had wanted us to see His nail scared hands and feet, as He did for Thomas—forever saddled with the sobriquet–Doubting Thomas, I suppose the Lord would have arranged that.
And I’m convinced, though unlike the first disciples, I didn’t witness the literal, physical presence of Christ, one day, I believe I will.
In the meantime, I’m content to rest with those who believe without having to see.
A few hours later, this past Easter Sunday morning, having let my sermon percolate to what I hoped was full strength, I walked around the perimeter of the church building, as I sometimes do, and prayed.
The parking lot was full.
I smiled in satisfaction.
Not long after that, I opened my Bible and preached to a house full of people, rejoicing with them on Easter Sunday.
But even if I had preached to no one but myself and the Technical Coordinator, who records my sermons, the message would have essentially been the same.
Even had it just been the two of us—the Tech Coordinator and me—I could yet have rejoiced, knowing that regardless of the crowd’s response or lack thereof, Jesus is alive.
Let the words resound the fact: Jesus is alive.
It’s true, whether anyone is there to hear it or not.