After Easter
As I finished reading over my sermon one more time, I wondered what the attendance would be on my first Easter Sunday as pastor. The small sanctuary held about 150 people but most Sundays the room was barely half-filled. I left my study and walked down the narrow hallway that led to the sanctuary. When I opened the door to the worship area, I was ecstatic to see people crowding into the pews, with more people coming through the front doors of the church.
I had been a pastor for barely three months and was well aware of my lack of pastoral experience. Would the congregation accept such a young and inexperienced pastor? The question had gnawed at me ever since I nervously, but excitedly, accepted the position. But now, as I watched the Easter crowd make their way into the sanctuary, my confidence was bolstered and some of my apprehensions were put to rest.
My reprieve was short-lived. The following Sunday my fragile bubble burst, bringing me quickly back down to earth. The usual number of worshippers were scattered around the sanctuary, maybe even a few less than normal. It was a deflating experience. I had thought that after Easter the enthusiasm would carry on for at least several weeks—but I was wrong.
The euphoria of a large crowd on Easter Sunday followed by the letdown of a diminished crowd the following Sunday is fairly typical in many churches. Some churches try to recreate the excitement of Easter Sunday by inviting famous guest preachers or celebrities to speak in the weeks after Easter in an attempt to maintain the momentum. Usually after a few Sundays, though, the excitement wanes and the Sunday crowd returns to its normal size. It didn’t take me long to realize that church attendance is seasonal, with both highs and lows, but most Sundays are just routine.
To refer to the worship of God as routine might raise a few eyebrows. How can anything about God be run-of-the-mill? But maybe routine is not necessarily a bad thing or even an indication of a fledgling pastor or a loss of the people’s interest in God. In fact, routine may be a sign that people of faith are alive and well.
We cannot continually live on a spiritual mountain top. Remember when Jesus was transfigured before a few of his disciples on a mountain? It was an incredible spiritual high, as Jesus’ divine nature was revealed. The disciples wanted to sustain that experience and remain perpetually on that spiritual mountain top, but Jesus wisely told them to go back down the mountain, back to the everyday routines of life. A vibrant and healthy spiritual life doesn’t always soar with the eagles. Living day-to-day as a child of God normally involves just putting one foot in front of the other, doing the best we can.
As much as I enjoyed Easter Sundays as a pastor, I’m thankful that not every Sunday was Easter. Easter is a time of wonderful celebration, but the real work of the church gets done on routine Sundays, during the weekdays and those times when only two or three are gathered together, quietly, without fanfare, doing the work of God. The greater parts of God’s work are done during the normal ebb and flow of life.
Human beings, for the most part, appreciate the routine. Yes, there are occasional birthday parties or special celebrations but people value the steady and predictable patterns of life. The routine nature of existence may sound boring to the less seasoned, but for those who have lived through the highs and lows, which occur all too frequently for many of us, the routine sounds heavenly.
How we value a weekend that is uneventful or an evening when the phone doesn’t ring or a peaceful afternoon when we can lounge in the hammock with nothing to do. How we cherish the days when our children’s world is without drama! How we appreciate the times when life is consistently stable and anxiety free.
Easter Sunday is an extraordinary day, a day to be celebrated and thankful for and remembered, but Sunday turns to Monday and then back to the routine we go. We’ve experienced a wonderful spiritual high, but now it’s back to the humdrum of living.
For the person of faith, what does it mean to get back to the routine?
The followers of Jesus must have asked a similar question—what do we do now that Easter is behind us? It was a problem for the early church, many of whom expected the risen Jesus to soon return. And when he didn’t, they were bewildered and confused. What were they supposed to do now that Jesus was gone?
Just before Jesus left his disciples for the last time, he gave Peter specific instructions as to what was to be done during his absence. In response to Peter’s confession of love for Jesus (see John 21), Jesus tells Peter to feed his lambs or take care of his sheep. The phrase “feed my lambs” or “take care of the sheep” means to “tend” to the needs of others. And before we restrict “sheep” to a certain religious group or just “Christian people,” remember that Jesus said he had sheep that were not of this fold (Jn. 10:16). On one occasion Jesus commended a Roman centurion for his great faith, greater than anyone he had met in Israel, even though the soldier was a so-called pagan (Lk. 7:1-10). God decides who the sheep are, not us. God so loved the world and so should we. Acts of kindness and concern for others, all others, should be routine behaviors for people of faith.
Life is hard, often unfair, and people can easily become discouraged. “Be there for others,” Jesus seems to be saying. While there are many important tasks for the church—teaching, preaching, evangelism—the most important of these tasks is to care for others. Without demonstrating compassion and love for others, the various ministries of the church, important as they are, lose significance. Paul writes in First Corinthians 13 that we can do all kinds of wonderful things—we can be wise and knowledgeable, preach powerful sermons, give to the poor, have faith to move mountains—but without love, all those things count for little.
People of faith are at their best when they practice the love and kindness of God. Through acts of compassion hospitals are built, schools are constructed, children are fed, poor people are given shelter, relief efforts are organized for the victimized, injustices are challenged, and people are given hope. If we care for the hurting, the disenfranchised, the lonely and sick as part of our normal routine, we will be doing the work of God.
Easter is behind us. Now it’s time to get back to tending the sheep.
