Over the course of this past week, we’ve been seeing quite a few national sports championships, and so I naturally can’t help but think about victory. A week ago, we watched the NCAA championship basketball game, and saw the players dance in the confetti falling from the ceiling, with pieces of newly-cut nets stuck in their caps. Then, we saw the women’s NCAA game, where a taunting gesture from the winning team made all of the headlines. And then the Master’s Tournament, where all applauded the awarding of his first green jacket to John Rahm.

Oh, and we threw some Easter in there too.

As a Christian, Easter is like all of those championships and so much more. It’s like Jesus cut down the nets of death, deflected any and all taunting gestures, and gracefully put on the green jacket in front of the world.

Except that he didn’t.

If I were Jesus, after punking death and rising from the grave, I would have had me some serious celebrations, victory laps, maybe even taunted the folks who were responsible for my murder. I would have paraded around the town, rubbing peoples’ faces in it, and threw a championship celebration that would have rivaled any victory parade imaginable.

But Jesus didn’t.

When Jesus, from the cross, said it is finished, he wasn’t saying it in the way you and I might think. Yes, his mission was finished, but his work wasn’t. Having a hard time believing me? Let’s look at the very first thing Jesus does on the morning of his resurrection.

Mary Magdalene headed over to the tomb, only to find the stone was rolled away, and in the place of Jesus’ body was some neatly folded burial clothes. Since dead people don’t just walk off a few days after their last breath, her immediate fear was that someone had broken into the tomb and stolen Jesus’ body. But when she peeked into the tomb, she saw angels who, in their compassion, simply asked her why she was crying.

 

“Because they have taken away my Lord,” she replied, “and I don’t know where they have put him.”

She turned to leave and saw someone standing there. It was Jesus, but she didn’t recognize him. “Dear woman, why are you crying?” Jesus asked her. “Who are you looking for?”

She thought he was the gardener. “Sir,” she said, “if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will go and get him.”

“Mary!” Jesus said.

John 20:13-16 (NLT)

           

In this tender moment, Jesus reveals an entirely new way to celebrate victory. There are no parades, no lights, no music—just the tender calling of a dear friend’s name.

Why?

Mary is grieving. Mary is sad. She has likely, like the rest of the disciples, lost hope and lost her way. I’m sure as she was reflecting on her experiences with Jesus, all kinds of questions must have been flooding in. Was she wrong about him? Did she have her hopes misplaced in something that, just like everything else in life, was merely fleeting?

What now?

And then, in that moment, Jesus pursues her. He calls her by name, and she immediately recognizes his voice and falls at his feet.

Jesus beats death, claiming the most incredible victory of humankind, but he doesn’t pound his chest in victory; he doesn’t dance in confetti—he doesn’t draw any kind of attention to himself at all.

 

He simply sees.

 

He sees Mary in her grief. Later, he sees his disciples in their fear. Then, he sees Thomas in his doubt, and ultimately sees some travelers from Emmaus in their bewilderment.

And each time, Jesus initiates the moment.

He calls Mary by name. He addresses his disciples and eats a meal with them. He invites Thomas to feel his wounds. He initiates a conversation with the fellas on the road.

This is what it means to celebrate victory.

It means that the win isn’t the ultimate goal; it’s the people.

It means that, Jesus is so sure of his identity and the approval of God, that he doesn’t need fanfare; he just wants to invest in the lives of others so that they might become more certain of their identity and of God’s love for them.

So as we ponder the aftermath of Easter, all of us will agree that Jesus died on a cross. Some of you may not believe that Jesus rose from the grave. If that’s you, please know that Jesus called his shots, saying that he would do this, but his disciples didn’t believe him either.

It took Jesus calling their name, initiating with them, for their belief to become real.

If that’s you, my prayer is that your heart would be warmed by his presence when he does show up for you.

 

And if you are one who considers yourself a follower of Jesus, then let’s take a que from the way he celebrated Easter:

Who in your life is grieving?

Who in your life has lost hope?

Who in your life is dealing with a broken heart? Has lost their way? Is asking themselves, “What now?”

Our job is to see these people. To love these people. To offer them the hope of Jesus and the love of the Father.

 

Because celebrations are way more fun when there’s a crowd. And the Bible promises a victory celebration like no other.

But not until the work is done.

Let’s pack that victory party.

It’s up to you and it’s up to me to carry the torch until our mission is finished.

 

Because the world desperately needs exactly what Jesus offers.