Easter Sunday
5 April 2026
The Stone Is Rolled Away—So What Now?
Happy Easter! The Lord is risen!
My name is Fr. Doug Martin and behalf of the staff and parishioners of Saint Peter, I want to welcome all of you, whether you are members of our parish, visiting with us, new to the area or our parish, dragged here, wandered in here… however you got here, I’m so glad you are.
A friend of mine recently told me the story of his 11 year old son at the Easter service last year. During the homily, his son began to feel sick. He tapped his father on the shoulder and said, “Dad, can we go home now?”
“No,” he irritatingly replied.
The boy waited a minute, and tapped him on the shoulder again. “But I think I’m going to throw up,” he whispered.
My friend looked at him and noticed he did look a bit pale. “Okay. Go out the front door of the church, across the parking lot, and throw up behind the bushes,” he instructed him. That sounds like a dad doesn’t it?
Less than a minute later, the boy came back and sat down again in his seat. My friend whispered, “Did you throw up?” The boy nodded his head. “But how could you have gone all the way across the parking lot, thrown up, and walked back so quickly?”
“I didn’t even have to leave the church,” the boy proudly replied. “I found a box at the front of the church doors that says ‘For the sick!’”
Now, that’s funny… but it also reminds you how easy it is to misunderstand what you’re looking at. To see something, even be confident about it and still completely miss what it actually means.
And that’s exactly where the Gospel begins this morning.
Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb early in the morning. It is still dark. And when she sees that the stone has been removed, she runs. Peter and the beloved disciple run too. And when they arrive, they don’t see Jesus.
They see… emptiness. The linen cloths. The burial cloth, rolled up. An absence.
And that’s where it begins.
Because Christianity does not begin with an explanation. It begins with a shock. An interruption. An empty tomb that does not make sense.
And the question that follows is the same question that stands before every single one of us: What does this mean?
Saint John tells us something very important: “He saw and believed. For they did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead.” He believed, but he didn’t fully understand.
That’s the doorway into Easter.
Not perfect clarity. Not everything figured out. But a moment of seeing… and responding.
And that’s where this becomes personal.
Because Easter is not just about what happened to Jesus. It’s about what that means for you and me.
And the Church gives us the answer through all the readings today.
In the Acts of the Apostles, Peter stands up and proclaims something simple and direct: “They put him to death by hanging him on a tree. This man God raised on the third day… and he commissioned us to preach to the people.”
That’s the core of it.
Jesus died. Jesus rose. And now this changes everything.
Not as an idea. But as an event that demands a response.
And then Saint Paul tells us what that response looks like: “If then you were raised with Christ, seek what is above… think of what is above, not of what is on earth.”
In other words: If the Resurrection is real, then your life cannot stay the same.
And that’s where we often hesitate.
Because it is one thing to celebrate Easter. It is another thing to let it change us.
But that’s exactly what the Resurrection is meant to do.
Because what Christ has done is not small. It is not symbolic. It is not just inspiring.
Christ has entered into death itself, and destroyed its power. He has taken sin, not just the idea of sin, but the reality of it and broken its hold. He has opened a way where there was no way.
Which means this:
Whatever you think defines you—your past —your failures —your sins —your habits —your wounds… that is not the final word.
The empty tomb says otherwise.
The stone has been rolled away. Not just from a grave two thousand years ago but from everything that keeps us locked in. Everything that says, this is just who I am. Everything that says, this will never change. Everything that says, there is no way out.
Easter says:
That’s not true.
Because Christ has already gone into the deepest places of death, and come out the other side. And not alone. He has made a way for you.
But here’s the key.
You have to step into it.
That’s the part we can’t skip.
The beloved disciple sees and believes. He doesn’t have everything figured out. But he responds.
And that’s what Easter asks of us.
Not that we understand everything. But that we take a step a real step toward Christ. toward the life He is offering.
Because it is very possible to stand at the edge of the empty tomb and walk away unchanged. To see it. To hear it. To acknowledge it. And then go right back to the same patterns, the same habits, the same way of living.
That can happen as you walk out of here today.
But that’s not why Christ rose.
He didn’t rise so that we could admire Him. He rose so that we could be transformed by Him. So that we could actually live a new life.
And that begins with something very simple but very real.
A decision. A turning. What the Church calls conversion.
To say:
If this is true… then I can’t keep living the same way.
If Christ has conquered sin… then I don’t have to stay stuck in it.
If death is not the end… then fear doesn’t get to run my life anymore.
If the tomb is empty… then something new is possible.
And that’s the invitation today.
Not just to celebrate.
But to respond.
To let the Resurrection move from something we hear… to something we live.