God invites us to cultivate a holy imagination, a capacity to envision a world remade according to God’s liberating and life-giving promises. This practice is not about escaping reality but about engaging with it more deeply, trusting that new life can emerge from what seems lifeless. It is an act of faith to believe in resurrection and renewal, even when the evidence around us suggests otherwise. We are called to nurture this imagination, creating the conditions for God’s surprises to take root in our hearts and communities. [11:05]
John 20:1-2
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” (NRSV)
Reflection: What is one practice—like spending time in nature, resting, or listening to children—that helps you nurture a hopeful and holy imagination for a world transformed by God’s love?
Liberation is God’s goal for us, and speaking truth is a vital part of that journey. When we courageously name what is real, even when it is difficult, we participate in the divine work of setting ourselves and others free. This truth-telling is rooted in the confidence that God’s love is big enough to hold our whole stories—our struggles, our hopes, and our confessions. It is an Easter practice, grounded in the belief that new life always follows honest reckoning. [11:23]
John 8:31-32
Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” (NRSV)
Reflection: Where in your life or community is God inviting you to speak a liberating truth, and what is one small step you can take to courageously give voice to it?
The resurrection of Jesus is God’s ultimate defiance of every system that deals in death, oppression, and exclusion. This power continues to work in our world, breathing life into places of despair and transforming seemingly immovable structures. From the reparative justice of the 14th Amendment to movements for human dignity today, we see fingerprints of this liberating, resurrecting love. God’s promise is that death—in all its forms—will never have the final word. [52:02]
1 Corinthians 15:54-55
When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (NRSV)
Reflection: Where have you recently seen a glimpse of resurrection—a sign of life, hope, or liberation—defying a narrative of death or despair in your community?
God is full of surprises, constantly doing a new thing and calling us to perceive it. Just as Mary Magdalene was surprised at the tomb, we are invited to remain open to God’s unexpected movements in our lives and world. This requires a holy curiosity and a willingness to release our preconceived notions of how God should act. The new creation God promises often arrives in ways we least expect, inviting us to wonder and delight. [20:41]
Isaiah 43:19
I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. (NRSV)
Reflection: When has God recently surprised you with joy, connection, or beauty in an unexpected place or way? How can you cultivate more openness to God’s surprising work this week?
The call of Easter is to live as resurrection people, repurposed by Christ to participate in the healing of the world. This means changing our relationship not only to death but to life itself, committing to compassion, moral courage, and the hard work of building beloved community. Our lives are meant to be a testament to the ongoing, transformative impact of Jesus’s revolution of love, challenging the powers of injustice with the power of self-giving love. [01:08:15]
John 20:17-18
Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her. (NRSV)
Reflection: As someone who has encountered the risen Christ, what is one way you are being sent out—like Mary—to announce God’s liberating love through your words or actions this week?
Easter imagery opens the gathering with a vivid caterpillar-to-butterfly metaphor that models slow, embodied transformation. The community pauses for a practice of truth telling that functions like a communal confession but with an Easter stance: an invitation to holy imagination, surprise, and the courage to name reality honestly so that liberation can follow. Congregants name the practices that keep imagination alive—outdoor awe, rest, children’s wonder, vulnerability, stories from ancestors—and the service treats those offerings as spiritual disciplines that create conditions for hope.
A central narrative thread follows Mary Magdalene’s encounter at the empty tomb. Her eyewitness announcement emerges as the engine of a movement: a grassroots transmission of hope that refuses to let empire, distortion, or misappropriation have the final word. That movement shows up again in unexpected places—nature’s recovery, civic reforms, and legal gains—and the empty tomb becomes a template for collective refusal of death-dealing systems.
The talk places resurrection squarely inside politics and law by tracing birthright citizenship to the Fourteenth Amendment and the struggle of Reconstruction. It names that reparative legal moves can embody resurrection by reversing dehumanizing rulings and by extending equal protection. The present contested debate over birthright citizenship receives attention as another moment when the choice to protect or to strip rights will shape who counts as part of the human family.
The account also lifts up the bodily dimension of resurrection. Rather than skirt awkward questions, it invites open curiosity: contemporary science and near-death research complicate easy denials of ongoing consciousness; mystery remains, but surprise also feels plausible. The service closes in shared meal and blessing, framing communion as a practice of abundance and mutual healing, and sends people into an Easter life that demands continued practice, collective repair, and imaginative courage.
Now Jesus didn't invent due process. He was a pretty amazing guy, but he didn't invent due process. Justice. He didn't invent repair. He didn't invent welcoming the stranger. He didn't invent love. But he lived it, and he died for it, and he lived still in our assertion that we should pour our whole lives into it, into these ways of being human together. Jesus was a walking revolution in the way he put it all together, in his moral courage, his abundant compassion, his curiosity, the clarity that he brought, and the the life of beloved community that he created around him.
[00:58:48]
(48 seconds)
#JesusLivedJustice
birthright citizenship is actually a story of transformation. It's a story of resurrection. It was a movement born of this same refusal to let death and the death dealing of white supremacy have the last word. We can see Jesus' fingerprints in the journey this country continues to have with welcoming people to this land. We can hear Mary Magdalene's courage in the story of where birthright citizenship came from in the first place.
[00:53:38]
(41 seconds)
#BirthrightTransformation
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