But, God had the last word.
When the women came at dawn on Sunday morning to anoint his body with spices,
the stone was rolled aside, the cave was empty.
Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed!

There in the garden, Mary wept tears, then she saw the one she thought was the gardener.
Then, she saw the Lord.
"I have seen the Lord!" she shouted.
Look around, the risen Christ is everywhere.
With eyes of faith, you can see him.

A young mother of five children became desperate because of health and financial problems,
and decided that life was not worth the struggle.
She took her youngest child, a pre-school age girl, into the bedroom, turned on the gas heater
without lighting it, and lay down on the bed with her arm around her small daughter.
She listened to the gas escaping, and became aware of another sound, the radio was on
in the next room.
For some reason, it seemed important to get up and turn it off.
When she went into the room, she heard the hymn,
"O, what peace we often forfeit,
O what needless pain we bear
all because we do not carry
everything to God in prayer."

In that moment, she realized the mistake she was making.
She rushed back into the bedroom, turned off the gas, opened the windows, picked up the little girl
and held her tightly.
She said later, "I began to pray. I did not pray for help.
I prayed a prayer of gratitude to God for opening my eyes."

Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed!

In the book, Unconditional Love, John Powell tells about Tommy, one of his students.
Tommy was the "atheist in residence" in Powell's theology class.
Tommy constantly objected to, smirked at, jeered at the idea of a loving God.

Powell called Tommy a "serious pain in the back pew."
When Tommy turned in his final exam, he asked cynically, "Do you think I'll ever find God?"

Powell responded with a surprising, "No! But I am absolutely certain that God will find you!"

Several years later, Tommy returned to see Powell.
He was thin, pale, and all his hair was gone, as a result of chemotherapy.
Tommy said, "I've got cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of weeks."

Powell was surprised at Tommy's acceptance and good spirit.
He was only 24 years old, dying of cancer, but said, "It could be worse.
Like being fifty years old and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze
and making money are the biggies in life."

Tommy continued, "But I came to tell you how, as you predicted, God found me."

After he had been told he had cancer, Tommy got serious about finding God.
He banged bloody fists on the bronze doors of heaven, but God didn't come out.
Then he remembered another lesson from the class.

Powell had said, "The essential sadness is to go through life without loving.
And it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those
you loved that you loved them."

So Tommy decided to tell those he loved that he loved them.
He began with the hardest one, his Dad.
Dad was reading the newspaper when Tommy approached, "Dad..."
Without lowering the newspaper, Dad said, "Yes."

"Dad, I would like to talk with you."
"Well, talk."

"I mean...it's really important."
The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"

"Dad, I just want you to know that I love you."

The newspaper fell to the floor, and his father did two things that Tommy had never seen before.
His father cried and hugged him.
They talked all night.
Tommy had similar experiences with his mother and his brother.

Tommy told Powell, "Here I was, in the shadow of death, and I was just beginning to open up
to all the people I had actually been close to.
Then, one day, I turned around, and there was God.
God found me."

Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed!

A pastor's telephone rang and it was one of the oldest and most faithful members of the congregation,
named Martha.
She was known as Aunt Martie to all the children.
She showered love wherever she went.
She said, "Preacher, could you stop by this afternoon? I need to talk with you."

As they sat in her small living room, Martha shared the news that her doctor had just discovered a tumor.
"He says I probably have six months to live".

"I'm so sorry ..." but before the pastor could finish, Martha interrupted.
"Don't be. The Lord has been good. I have lived a long life.
I'm ready to go. You know that."

"I know," the pastor whispered with a reassuring nod.

"But I do want to talk with you about my funeral."

The two talked quietly for a long time.
They talked about Martha's favorite hymns, the passages of Scripture that had meant
so much to her through the years, and the many memories they shared.

When it seemed that they had covered just about everything,
Aunt Martie paused, looked up at her pastor with a twinkle in her eye, and then added,
"One more thing, preacher. When they bury me, I want my old Bible in one hand
and a fork in the other".

"A fork?"

The pastor was sure that he had heard everything, but this caught him by surprise.
"Why do you want to be buried with a fork?"

"I have been thinking about all of the church dinners and banquets that I attended
through the years.
I couldn't begin to count them all.
But one thing sticks in my mind.
At those really nice get-togethers, when the meal was almost finished, a server or maybe
the hostess would come by to collect the dirty dishes.

I can hear the words now.
Somebody would lean over my shoulder and whisper, 'You can keep your fork.' "
And do you know what that meant?
Dessert was coming!
It didn't mean a cup of Jell-O or pudding or even a dish of ice cream.
You don't need a fork for that.
It meant the good stuff, like chocolate cake or cherry pie!

When they told me I could keep my fork, I knew the best was yet to come!
That's exactly what I want people to talk about at my funeral.
Oh, they can talk about all the good times we had together.
That would be nice.