Rolling Stones and Rising Hope: An Easter Invitation

Hey friends, welcome back to Pastor’s Ponderings. I’m Pastor Scott, and today I’m sitting down with my coffee, my Bible, and a heart full of wonder about Easter. It’s the season of resurrection, of new life, of something breaking through—and I want to invite you into that mystery with me. Easter’s not just a day on the calendar or a story we dust off once a year. It’s an invitation. A dare. A question: What if the things we thought were dead aren’t finished at all? Let’s ponder this together.

I was walking through my neighborhood last night just before a thunderstorm, and spring is waking up all around me. Trees budding (lots of pollen), flowers poking through the dirt. And there, in a neighbor’s yard (the one that always has a perfect lawn and a perfect garden – I’m so envious), was this one tulip—bright red, standing tall like it was shouting, “I’m alive!” It stopped me in my tracks. Because isn’t that Easter? Something refusing to stay buried. Something insisting that life gets the last word.

Let’s go to the story. Picture it: early morning, the air cool and heavy with dew. The women—Mary Magdalene, maybe another Mary—are walking to the tomb. Their steps are slow, their hearts weighed down with grief. They’re carrying spices to anoint a body. Jesus’ body. The one they loved, the one they followed, the one they thought would change everything. Now it’s over. Done. Finished.

Or so they think.

Then they get there, and—boom—the stone’s rolled away. The tomb’s empty. An angel’s sitting there, casual as you please, saying, “He’s not here. He’s risen.” Can you imagine Mary’s face? Confusion, shock, maybe a flicker of hope she’s afraid to let herself feel. Because that’s not how death works. That’s not how the story was supposed to end.

Or was it?

Here’s what grabs me about Easter: It’s not just about what happened that morning. It’s about what it means for us today. Easter says the worst thing is never the last thing. Betrayal? Not the final word. Pain? Not the end of the chapter. Even death? Nope. There’s something more. There’s a rising.

I wonder where you feel that in your life right now. Where are you standing at a tomb, holding onto something you think is gone? A dream that fizzled out? A relationship that’s fractured? A hope you’ve buried? Easter’s whispering to you, “It’s not over. Look for the life.”

Let’s slow down for a second, because resurrection is a big word. We toss it around at church, but what does it really mean? Sure, it’s about Jesus rising from the dead—absolutely, that’s the heartbeat of our faith. But it’s also about what that does to *us*. To you and me. To the world we’re stumbling through.

Resurrection says that God’s not done. Not with you, not with your story, not with the mess. It says there’s always a next. A new chapter. A second chance. And here’s the thing: it doesn’t always look like you expect. Sometimes resurrection is loud—an empty tomb, angels singing, the whole shebang. But sometimes it’s quiet. It’s the friend who texts you just when you need it. It’s the courage to try again after you’ve failed. It’s the moment you forgive when you thought you’d hold that grudge forever.

Resurrection’s sneaky like that. It shows up in the dirt of life. In the ordinary. In the places we least expect. Because that’s where God loves to work, isn’t it? In the cracks. In the mess. In the moments we’d written off.

So let’s get real. I know life doesn’t always feel like a resurrection party. Sometimes it feels like you’re stuck at the tomb, clutching those spices, staring at what’s lost. I’ve been there. We all have. But here’s what I’m learning: Easter invites us to move. Those women at the tomb didn’t just stand there, gaping at the empty space. They ran. They told people. They became part of the story.

And that’s the question Easter asks us: Are you going to stay at the tomb, holding onto what *was*? Or are you going to step into what *could be*? Are you going to look for the places where life’s breaking through—and then join in?

Maybe it’s a conversation you need to have, even if it scares you. Maybe it’s a dream you’ve shelved that’s tugging at your heart again. Maybe it’s just getting up tomorrow and choosing to love a little more, forgive a little deeper, hope a little braver. That’s resurrection. That’s Easter alive in you.

Here’s my challenge as we sit with this Easter season: Look for it. Look for the resurrection all around you. Not just in the big, flashy moments, but in the small ones. Where’s love refusing to quit? Where’s hope pushing up like that tulip through the dirt? Where’s life saying, “I’m not done yet”?

And then—here’s the part that changes everything—*be* the resurrection. Easter’s not just something that happened 2,000 years ago. It’s happening now. In your choices. In your courage. In the way you show up. You get to roll stones away for someone else. You get to carry the news that life wins. You get to live like the tomb is empty—because it is.

One last thought before I let you go. In John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Not “I’ll give you resurrection later.” Not “I’ll show you life someday.” But *I am*. Right now. Right here. In the middle of your doubts, your fears, your questions—resurrection is already humming. It’s already alive. And you’re invited to step into it.

So this Easter, don’t just read the story. Live it. Run from the tomb. Tell the world with your life. Be the rising. Because the story’s not over—and neither are you.

Thanks for pondering with me, friends. If this stirs something in you, share it with someone. Let’s keep asking the big questions together. Until next time, keep seeking, keep hoping, and keep rising.
Grace, Peace & Tulips,
-Pastor Scott.