We can’t go back to where we have been. An empty tomb can be terrifying. 

I’m not sure how many times I will need to hear these words before I will know them, but every time I hear them I am struck by their naked truth and the difficulties of remembering these truths in my own life. 

The scripture passage for chapel today was John: Jesus appears to the disciples as they are unsuccessfully trying to fish after the resurrection. The sermon asked the question: why did Peter go back to fishing? At this point in John’s gospel, Peter has already encountered the resurrected Christ at least twice. So, what is he doing returning to his old profession, to fishing? 

The preacher acknowledged that there is some comfort in going back to what we know, so perhaps we should not be surprised. When our world has been turned upside down and shaken until we are too tired to hold on any longer, it makes the most sense to go back to something familiar, something we can rest in and have faith in – something we know. Is it any wonder that Peter returns to fishing after all that he has been through? 

But the text does not make it easy, for Peter or for us. Peter and the disciples have been fishing their entire lives and they go out this time to fish and they catch nothing. Nothing. Towards the end of the evening, a stranger appears on the shore and tells them to cast their nets on the other side of the boat. 

Now, I know absolutely nothing about fishing boats in that time, but even on the biggest boat, the distance from one side to the other could not have been that large. Dropping the net into the water on the other side couldn’t have been that far from where the net was before. But this time, this time the disciples can barely pull in all the fish they catch. 

The text makes it clear: these professional fishermen are not going to be able to go back to fishing. They know how to fish, they know where to put their nets, they know how to do it, they have done it before, but they are not going to catch anything. They have been called to fish for people and God is simply not going to give them the easy way out. It simply will not be possible. They have seen too much, lived through too much to go back to their lives from before. 

Most of us know what it is like to be Peter and the disciples – to have encountered something so profound, so life changing that we simply cannot return to life as we knew it before. In youth groups we call them mountain top experiences. In adulthood, they seem to be called crises. Whatever you call them, they are often awe-full. They are these incredible experiences (sometimes painful, sometimes joyful) that show us the world, ourselves, in new ways and suddenly life cannot be the same. 

It is not easy though – this life changing work. And the Resurrection acknowledges this in ways I appreciate. In celebrating the Resurrection, we are celebrating an empty tomb. Yes, a risen Christ, but also an empty tomb. Our affirmation of faith this morning reminded me of how hard that can be: 

“With the stone rolled away came emptiness . . .” 

“With the stone rolled away came questions . . .” 

I was reminded, once again, this morning that we cannot go back. No matter how comfortable that life was, we know too much, have seen too much, and are being called to new things – we cannot simply return to the old, we must move forward. 

And yet, before we move forward, we must face the empty tomb. We must face the questions and the uncertainties of leaving behind what we have known, what is comfortable. It is hard to face an empty tomb that was once filled with things you understood. It is hard to face the 

questions that bombard you in the loneliness and emptiness of the life you once knew. It is hard not being able to return to the life you knew so well, the life you were good at. 

But . . .

“With the stone rolled away comes light . . .”

“With the stone rolled away comes a future . . .”