The Rev. Dr. Patricia Ramsden    First Presbyterian
The Rev. Rob McPherson, First Methodist Church

PETER:  I am just a simple fisherman.  My father called me Simon, the wanderer, and I suppose it fits given my life since Jesus first called me.  Jesus called me Peter, the rock.  He said the church would be built upon my faith.  In that case I feel sorry for the church because my faith failed Jesus time after time.  But I’m getting ahead of myself as usual. 

         I was fishing with my brother Andrew when Jesus said simply, “Follow me” – and the rest as they say is history.  We left our nets behind and for three years we followed as Jesus taught, healed the sick, fed the hungry.  We were there every step of the way.

MARY:         My name is Mary Magdalene, and I am so grateful for your allowing me to be here this morning to talk to you about the one I love more than life itself --- our Lord Jesus Christ.  But first I must tell you a bit about myself before I met Jesus.

I grew up in Magdala, a famous port city on the Sea of Galilee.  My parents were well off and gave me everything I ever wanted, except for time, except for their love.  I grew up with this ache in my heart, this emptiness in my soul to be loved by someone, anyone.

         My life felt empty, senseless, the days seemed grey with hopelessness and I was on the verge of suicide when I heard about this Jesus.

PETER:  I remember once we were out on the lake, all of us except for Jesus, when a huge storm suddenly appeared out of no where threatening to swamp the boat, drowning us all.  Then I looked out through the driving rain and there walked Jesus.  I mean, there He was, walking on the water, right toward us!  We thought it was a ghost!

         So I called out, “Lord, if it’s You, tell me to come.”  And so He did.  He told me to get out of the boat and walk toward Him – that He would keep me safe.  So I did.  I got out of the boat and walked on the water with Jesus.  Getting out of the boat was probably one of the craziest things I’ve ever done.

         No, wait, the craziest thing I’ve ever done was when I took my eyes off Jesus and looked at the storm raging around us instead.  In that moment, I started to sink, when Jesus took me by the hand and lifted me up out of danger.  “Why did you doubt?” He said.  “All you had to do was keep your eyes on me.  I will keep you safe no matter how bad the storm might be.”

MARY:  They said Jesus was coming to Magdala to teach and I knew I had to see Him.  They said He was a miracle worker and I thought perhaps he could work a miracle in my life.  After all, they said he had turned water into wine, that he healed the sick, that He had even raised a man from the dead.  I had to go see Him for myself even though I knew He was probably just another fake or one of those crazy prophets claiming to be sent by God. 

         So I went, and it was as if He looked through the crowd, straight into my heart.  It felt as if He knew all about me and in those few moments it was as if all the aches of my heart had disappeared. 

         He didn’t love me because of my appearance, my money, my family status.  None of that mattered to Him.  I was the one who was important.  The real me – the me God created me to be.  And I knew I needed to follow Him wherever He might go.

PETER:  I remember that night.  It is seared upon my soul.  The pain.  The despair.  The betrayal.  I don’t know why I followed them to the priest’s house after they arrested Jesus.  I suppose I held out the hope that I could rescue Him in some dramatic gesture of heroism.  That would have been like me – impetuous, dramatic. 

         All I knew was that I had to be there for Him as He had always been there for me.  But that’s not what happened.  It wasn’t what happened at all.  I went up by the fire where the soldiers were in order to get warm, when the maid recognized me, and I knew that I was in trouble --- big trouble, and it wasn’t a good idea to be identified as one of Christ’s friend. 

         So I denied Him. 

         I denied my master and my friend to save my own neck.  Looking back on it now, I would rather die than do such a thing, but then, on that night, it happened without my even thinking about it.  And so I denied Him not once, not twice, but three times. 

         As the guards pushed Jesus out of the house, hands bound behind Him, bloody and bruised from all of the beatings, what He heard was a familiar voice --- my voice – saying, “I do not know Him.”  Then in an instant of time, He looked straight at me, straight into my eyes, my heart, and it was then that He knew what it really meant to be betrayed.

         And I ran, weeping bitterly, knowing all too well what it was I had done. 

MARY:   Perhaps you can know just a bit as to how I felt during that last week in Jerusalem.  It started as I had always dreamed.  He rode into town to cries of Hosanna, and He spent the week teaching at the temple, but then one night, Passover night the priests came to arrest Him even as He was praying in the garden. 

         They beat and mocked Him and sent Him to Pilate for trial.  I pushed through the crowds to see Him as I had never seen Him before.  Gone was the man I loved and in His place was this bruised and battered person.  And the crowds started to yell Crucify Him Crucify Him.  I couldn’t understand what had happened.  These were the same men and women who had cried out Hosanna just a few days ago.  Stop it I cried.  Stop it.  But still they yelled put those terrible words Crucify Him.

         I followed them to the hill of Calvary where they laid him on the ground and pounded His hands and His feet into the wood of the cross.  I was there as they gambled for his cloak the only thing He had left.  I was there with my heart breaking until He finally said it is finished.  And as He died all the hope and dreams, love and life, within me died too. Crucified on that cross with Him.

         I stood there watching as they took His body from the cross.  I was there as they carried him to the tomb.  I was there when they lay His body on that cold grey slab of rock.  I was there as they rolled the stone in front of the grave.  I was there even though I had died inside with Him.

PETER:  For days, I wandered through the garden where He had prayed, for days I wept, unable to believe what I had just done, unable to forgive myself for betraying and denying my Master and my friend. 

         I was not there has they nailed Him to the tree.  I was not there when He took His final breath.  Even there, I failed Him.  I was so caught up in my own sense of shame that I could not even give Him the comfort of my presence. 

         Finally, on the Saturday, I returned to the Upper Room where the rest of the disciples were in hiding, questioning what we should do now.  For myself, I knew it was time to go back home, back to fishing, back to the sea. 

         And then it happened.  Suddenly Mary burst into the room saying the tomb was empty --- the body was not there.  But how could it be?  Who would take even the body of Jesus away from those who loved Him best?

         John and I took off racing to the tomb, thinking the women in their grief had gotten it wrong, but no.  When we entered the cave serving as His grave, there was nothing and no one there.  All we could think was that the priests had come and spirited Him away, so slowly we walked back to the room and the others, trying to make sense of it all, while Mary stayed behind. 

MARY:  I’ll never forget that morning.  The Sabbath was over and I knew I had to care for Him even now, so I went to wrap His body in the herbs and spices and give Him a decent burial.  But when I got there the stone was rolled away and I knew --- I just knew they had stolen His body away.  And suddenly I could take it no more. 

They had stolen everything away from me --- and now they had stolen Him from me too.  I was so hopeless, so weighed down with grief and suddenly I started to cry with all the bent up tears of the last few horrible days. And I couldn’t stop crying. 

         Finally through my tears I looked inside the grave and I saw two men there – at least they looked like men, and they said to me Why do you weep?  And all I could say was where have you taken Him?  There was no answer and I saw the gardener and ran to Him falling at His feet and I pleaded with Him, “Please,” I said, “Where have you taken him?  Let me see him even now.  Give me as much as that.” 

         And then I heard it, the voice I would never forget – His voice full of caring and love “Mary.”  It was all he needed to say.  “Rabboni! Teacher!”  All the joy in heaven and earth were tied up in those words.

         I couldn’t believe it.  He was alive.  He was dead no more.  He had risen from the grave to show to me and to you that His love His power His strength were greater than anything evil could do. 

         He is alive for me still in this moment and He can be alive with you as well.  For He loves you with an undying love.  That is what I really need to tell you. 

It is a story of love and power  -- a story of the Son of God --- the true messiah.  And He has come for you as He has for me.  Decide to follow him now, today, as we stand together to tell His story as the disciples once told it through the words of the apostle’s creed.