Alleluia! Christ is risen!
Those words ring out with joy and excitement on Easter morning. The tomb is empty and the energy is high. With every repetition, a chorus of voices responds: He is risen indeed! Alleluia! It is a powerful way to begin our Easter worship, and I am always moved by it.
I will confess to being somewhat less moved as the Easter season continues. The next few Sundays tend to have a smaller crowd, and the words don’t ring out as clear or as strong. By the fourth Sunday of Easter, the Gospel reading has shifted focus away from resurrection stories, and the weeks that follow return to Jesus’ words at the Last Supper. And let’s be honest, friends: the world doesn’t slow down for Easter the way it does for Christmas. There is no time to linger at the empty tomb. Life moves on.
The world speeds on ahead at a frantic pace. The stresses at work and at home—money, health, family—do not let up. Headlines tell of violence and hatred close to home, terror and war around the globe. In the middle of it all, it can feel almost disingenuous to gather at the font and cry out Alleluia.
But that is exactly why we do.
Because Easter is not just a one-time event; it is a way of seeing the world. The promise of the resurrection is not only for some far-off heaven. New life is happening here. Now. Resurrection happens every time we stand in the shadow of sin and death and cry out Alleluia anyway.
Beloved, we are Easter people. Not because life is easy, but because it is not. Not because suffering disappears when we begin to follow Jesus, but because suffering does not have the last word. Christ is with us. We are not alone.
The world spins on—seemingly out of control. War and violence persist. Fear and shame remain. And still, we have reason to praise: God loves you enough to die for you. And God’s love is stronger than death. Christ is risen. Alleluia anyway.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! In the days ahead, I pray those words continue to move you. Perhaps they will not resound with the same joyful force as they did on Easter morning. But may you still hold fast to these words for what they truly are: good news of defiant hope. The tomb is empty. Christ is alive. And so too are we. Alleluia anyway!
Grace and Peace,
Pastor Will Starkweather
Last modified: April 23, 2026