From Cross to Empty Tomb – An image of hope for a declining Church

Easter is a time of profound emotions, from profound sadness as believers stand at the foot of the cross watching our saviour die to unbridled joy as we peer into the empty tomb and experience the hope of the resurrection. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions as believers once again mark this movement from death to new life.

At the heart of our faith as Christians is a belief in life after death. The Resurrection shows us God’s unstoppable hope and reminds us that there is always new life to be found through God. When things seem hopeless and death is all around us, we are reminded that God’s hope still prevails. This movement from Good Friday to Easter Sunday, from death to new life, is a profound passage in our faith.

In recent years, I’ve found myself reflecting on this Paschal Triduum a powerful image for a Church that is so marred by death and decline.

It is no secret that Christianity in the West is in a period of decline, and has been for some decades. For the first time in history, the Australian census showed less that 50% of the population consider themselves as Christian. The Uniting Church is going through a profound period of wrestling with our current identity as we look towards our future. We know that we are a declining denomination, and we see many parts of the Church struggling to survive. We find ourselves having to make deep, and often painful, decisions about how we want to proceed into the future to ensure the long-term stability of our denomination. And when we look at local expressions of faith, we also see rapid decline. My beloved congregation in suburban Sydney, a congregation I have been a part of my whole life, is experiencing quick and profound decline because of the current ministry and the changing demographics of the congregation.

It seems death is all around us.

Yet at the heart of our faith is a story of resurrection, of life after death. And so, I wonder what might it mean to embrace death in our Church, trusting in the promise of the Resurrection. Trusting that life will come after death.

I think this image of moving from Cross to Empty Tomb is a helpful one as we think about where we are as a Church. And quite often we might find ourselves at different points of this three-day story.

Sometimes we might find ourselves standing at the foot of the cross at 12pm on Good Friday. We’re in the throws of the painful death of our Church. We are seeing the pain of declining numbers or the anguish if ineffective ministries. We experience the rawness of declining bank balances or the possibility of closure. The death seems real and very raw.

At other times we may find ourselves sitting in the liminal space of Holy Saturday, we’ve experienced the death, but we don’t know what is next. We may have accepted the death of the Church but now we find ourselves in the darkness of the tomb, unsure what is next, sitting somewhere between life and death. What’s important to remember at this point is that Christ sits there with us, in the tomb experiencing the death. We’re not left abandoned at that point.

But then something profound happens on that third, Sunday morning. Suddenly the stone begins to be rolled away and the cracks of light flood in. Slowly that which seemed dead is now alive and we are filled with the light and the hope of a new birth. What seemed like the final death of our Church is no more and new life has been breathed into it again and something new and different has been birthed.

When we look at our own experiences of Church or look at the broader Uniting Church or even Christian Church, we might place ourselves at different points on this timescale. When I think about my own congregation, I sometimes feel like we’re still at the rawness of the cross on Good Friday afternoon watching the throws of death or maybe someone in the evening of that Friday, lovingly burying that which we loved. When I think of our broader Uniting Church, I think we sit somewhere in the tomb on Holy Saturday, hovering between life and death. Some days it feels early on the Saturday morning as we’re still coming to terms with the darkness of the tomb, and other times it feels like later in the day as the tiny cracks of light begin to break into the tomb as the stone is slowly rolled away.

But wherever we see ourselves in this three-day movement I think it is vital and profound that we sit and remember the promise of new life that is at the heart of our faith. Fundamental to our faith as Christians is that nothing can stop God, not even death. We cling deeply to this profound belief that life comes after death. Easter Sunday reminds us that God’s hope prevails and that there is always hope of resurrection, no matter what.

But for new life to occur, we must first experience the death.

So perhaps as we sit in the afterglow of this Easter season, we might reflect on what this movement from death to new life might mean for us as a Church. The pain we feel in those Good Friday-like moments is real and profound and we shouldn’t dismiss them in any way. But perhaps we should accept them as a genuine part of the life cycle of our Church. Because if we are genuinely people of the resurrection then we must trust in the death as well, knowing that the death isn’t the end for God or God’s Church and that new life always comes.

May this movement from Cross to Empty Tomb, from pain and suffering to hope and joy, be an image that we hold on to as we wrestle with a declining Church. The pain of the Cross and the anguish of a declining Church is real. But the stone will always be rolled away, new life will come. And so, wherever we find ourselves in this three-day story we hold fast to the promise of the Resurrection, that new life will always come.