I don’t know if you are one these people, but I have heard that some readers of murder mysteries start their reading by first peeking at the conclusion of the book where the identity of the murderer is revealed, and then they go back to the beginning and read through to the end. Now I think that this practice is shocking and horrifying. I prefer to figure out the ending on my own based on the clues I am given along the way. Besides, most of the worry and suspense is eliminated when we know ahead of time how things are going to turn out in the end, and most of us read such books precisely because of the suspense, because we don’t know where the plot is going to take us. We like it because it is all simulated and safe, like a good roller-coaster: we can enjoy the thrill of the unexpected twists and turns and the sudden ups and downs in a simulated brush with death, all the while knowing that it is only a ride and that we’ll soon be safely on the ground. We enjoy a murder mystery story for the same reasons, namely, for the thrill of a close encounter with death, knowing all the while that it is only fiction.

Thus with mysteries we can get a kick out of not knowing where we are headed or where we are going, and of not knowing, at least for 90% of the book, how things will turn out in the end. But this is in the pretend, virtual and fictional world, the world of our imagination. Such is definitely not the case, however, in real life. In real life we are alternately thrilled and terrified of the unknown, especially of the unknown future. Mostly we are terrified. We are terrified because we know that death waits for us out there somewhere, and because we know that death is as persistent as it is patient. We could stand up to it and face the inevitable with cool determination, as the ancient Greeks did with their tragic sense of fate; but because we really don’t appreciate reminders of, and cannot often face, what we fear most, we wrap ourselves in protective layers of temporary and sometimes ephemeral tokens of comfort and illusion that trick us into thinking that we are safe and secure from future unknowns, i.e., especially from the unknown time and circumstance of death: our storehouses and barns, our McMansions, our lucrative but unsatisfying careers, our supporters, fans and friends that tell us what we want to hear, our growing devotion to the unattainable nirvana of fitness.

Today our readings all point us toward the future promised by God. His is a future that is not some vague forever out there somewhere, unattainable in the distant beyond, a mere figment of imagination, an impossible dream. No, God’s future is real, specific, and coming. In fact, it comes recognizable and tangible even now into the present through Word and sacrament. God’s future impinges on the present moment even as we speak, indeed in our speaking, giving shape and contour to the past, giving the history of the world a purpose and a specific, and hopeful, destiny. Through word and sacrament we catch glimpses of God’s future that can give us comfort and courage to face the present as it can also help us interpret the meaning of our past.

Take for example the story of creation in the book of Genesis. The creation story is told from God’s perspective as the Creator of time itself. The story of creation, I think, is meant to be interpreted from the perspective of creation’s end and final fulfillment, from the point of view of creation’s destiny and purpose, from God’s promise that will reach its ultimate just and blessed conclusion in God’s good time. “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.” God’s creation is “good” because God intends it for perfection, for redemption. As Luther said in his Large Catechism where he deals with the Third Article of the Apostles’ Creed: “For this very purpose [God] created us, so that he might redeem us and make us holy.” It is the promise and the hope of salvation that interprets and gives meaning to time itself. This is important for us to remember, because by knowing where we are going, our lives gain a new purpose and we get a new lease on life, even when things are going terribly wrong. We can make sense of our past because we know history’s destiny, and we can live hopefully in the present because we know him in whose hands our future rests.

Easter has initiated a new day. It anticipates a new heaven and a new earth. The risen Christ makes all things new. All our readings today reflect these truths.

In our first reading from Acts Peter goes up to Jerusalem. The point of the story is explained in its introduction: “Now the apostles who were in Judaea heard that the Gentiles had also accepted the word of God.” That the Gentiles through their faith in Christ were now a part of the covenant God had established with the people of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob was a scandal to pious Jews, even to those Jews who followed Christ. Peter is criticized for eating with gentiles, thus violating the dietary regulations that were meant to demarcate God’s chosen people from the gentile world. But Peter has a vision that all foods, even those considered unclean or off limits, can now be eaten and that all people may eat together. When three men from Caesarea, gentiles, come to escort Peter, the Spirit tells Peter not to make a distinction between them and us, i.e., between Jewish and gentile believers in Christ. Upshot? The church of Jesus Christ even now models and exemplifies the unity of God’s people that is the promise and the hope of Israel, a promise and a hope fulfilled in Christ.

In the book of Revelation we participate in John’s vision of a new heaven and a new earth when God will establish a new Jerusalem adorned as a bride for her husband. When that day comes God will be with his people, he will wipe every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more. Even before that day comes, the one who sits on the throne in that future heavenly kingdom declares from that future to us now: “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.” All of time is bracketed by God’s love in Christ and enlivened by the Spirit. When the book of Revelation was written, this vision of the end and these comforting words of the Redeemer were meant to give hope and courage to those who were suffering severe, violent, and bloody persecution. Their martyrdom was not, therefore, a futile gesture and a failure, but a witness to a sacrificial love that was far greater than the fear of their persecutors.

And in John’s gospel, after Jesus washes the disciples’ feet he gives them this new commandment that they love one another. “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” “By this,” Jesus said, “everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Love, particularly and specifically the love of God for his people Israel and the church, and through them his love for all humanity, is what will win out over all the forces of evil, sin, and death. It is that example of love fulfilled that Jesus’ followers are to exhibit towards one another in their life together. Through the example of that love the world will see what God intends not only for Israel and the church and for all people, but also for all time. It is an example of the love that is coming, coming from God’s future where the risen Christ reigns, for all peoples, tribes, and nations. Thus the love of the Christian community in the present moment is a foretaste of the love that God will establish for all at the end.

How can we be the community where there are no distinctions among us? How can we point the world toward its promised fulfillment in him who is its beginning and its end? How can we exemplify the love that one day, despite our differences, will rule over all? This is the continuing challenge and mission of the church, to be what we all one day shall be by the great and unbeatable love of the risen Lord.

-Amen-