"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen."
(Luke 24:5)
Friends,
This question, which we hear each Easter, catches me every time. It’s not just a declaration—it’s an invitation. Spoken into moments of grief, confusion, and fear, it gently calls us to look again. To lift our eyes. To notice that even in the places we thought were empty and beyond hope, God is already at work, bringing new life. It’s an invitation to come alongside a living hope.
And not the kind of hope that pretends everything is fine. But a hope rooted in real life—gritty, grounded, and true. That’s what Holy Week does. It draws us into the raw and honest story of Jesus, and it holds space for our own stories too. We walk with him through the joy of Palm Sunday, the pain of betrayal, the silence of Saturday, and the heartbreak of the cross. And then, when it seems like all is lost, we come to the tomb—and find that love has already gone ahead. That hope is already moving. That life is not finished.
I see glimpses of that kind of living hope all the time here at St. Francis. In whispered prayers. In laughter over coffee. In meals left on doorsteps. In the ways we try our hardest, fall short, and keep showing up for each other anyway. I see it in the wonder of our children, in the beauty of our garden, in the compassion we offer and receive. These are resurrection moments—quiet, ordinary, holy. They remind us that Christ is alive, and still moving among us.
And that kind of hope doesn’t just stay with us—it moves through us.
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