From Darkness to Light
The Easter season is not just a single day of celebration but a whole season of transformation. As we journey from the wilderness of Lent to the joy of resurrection, we are invited not just to remember Christ’s triumph over death, but to be changed by it. Two powerful resurrection stories from scripture that we will hear on Sunday include Saul’s conversion on the road to Damascus (Acts 9:1–20) and Jesus’ seaside conversation with Simon Peter (John 21:1–19), remind us that Easter faith is not fixed. It reshapes who we are, how we live, and how we love.
The story of Saul is dramatic. He is a man filled with anger, threatening the followers of Jesus. He believes he is doing what is right. And then, in a flash of divine interruption, he is blinded. It’s striking that the first step in his transformation is not insight, but blindness. Saul must sit in darkness before he can see the light of Christ. It is as though God says to him, “Stop. Wait. Let go of what you thought you knew.”
Many of us experience Lent in a similar way. We enter into a time of reflection and letting go. We strip away distractions and assumptions. Sometimes we face discomfort or spiritual disorientation. We may even come to know our own versions of blindness, places where we have not seen clearly, or times when our vision has been too small. But God does not leave Saul in darkness. Through the compassion of Ananias, the scales fall from Saul’s eyes, and he is baptized into a new life as Paul.
Easter is the moment when our own scales begin to fall. The light of the resurrection begins to reveal the world anew, not as a place of defeat or despair, but as a place for God’s redeeming work. The story of Saul to Paul reminds us that no one is beyond transformation. God is always doing a new thing, even in us.
Meanwhile, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, another transformation is taking place. Simon Peter, the bold disciple who had denied Jesus three times, has returned to fishing, perhaps unsure of his place in the story now. But Jesus meets him there, in the ordinariness of a morning catch, with a charcoal fire and breakfast cooking. Jesus does not scold him. Instead, he invites Peter back into relationship, asking, “Do you love me?” three times, once for each denial.
This moment is quieter than Saul’s blinding light, but no less important. Peter’s transformation happens not through spectacle, but through grace. Jesus takes Peter’s shame and offers him a path forward. “Feed my sheep,” he says, commissioning Peter not as a failed disciple, but as a shepherd of Christ’s people.
These stories are not just about Saul and Peter. They are about us. They are Easter stories; stories of people who thought they had run out of chances, only to find that God was just getting started. Lent brings us to the edge of ourselves, and Easter opens the door to the new creation. Whether through a flash of light or a quiet breakfast by the sea, the risen Christ meets us where we are and invites us to begin again.
In the Episcopal Church, we mark this season with Alleluias restored, white and gold on the altar, and the blooming beauty of spring. But beneath the surface is something even deeper: the truth that resurrection is not a one time event. It is a pattern, a rhythm of dying and rising that pulses through the Christian life.
We will all have moments when we stumble like Peter, or even persecute truth like Saul. But we also have a God who calls us by name, who waits for us in the dark, who prepares breakfast for us on the shore. We are being changed, not just forgiven, but empowered. Not just restored, but sent.
This Easter season, may we open our eyes like Paul and say, “Lord, what would you have me do?” May we answer Christ’s question with Peter and say, “Lord, you know I love you.” And may we live into the transformation that resurrection makes possible, not just once, but again and again, as God makes all things new.
Kevin+