By Mary C. Frances, Executive Director
Spring is a relentless theologian. No matter how brutal the winter or how dead the ground appears, little green shoots begin to push through. For many of our congregations, we have just endured a long, hard winter—a season of occupation, rising to meet the growing needs of neighbors, and sheer exhaustion. But Easter is not merely a historical date; it is a living promise. And this year, that promise is showing up in the streets.
In the liturgical calendar, Palm Sunday is the gateway to resurrection. It is the day we wave branches and shout “Hosanna,” knowing the cross looms. But this year, the church looked a little different. On Palm Sunday, an estimated 10,000 people in the Twin Cities and another 10,000 across the country did not stay inside their sanctuaries. They marched in the streets. They raised their voices not to build a kingdom of temporal power, but to resist authoritarianism and Christian Nationalism—the false gospel that conflates flag with faith.
This is new life for the church.
For too long, many churches have confused survival with faithfulness. We have obsessed over budgets and building maintenance while the soul of our witness atrophied. But resurrection is not resuscitation. You do not resuscitate a corpse; you transform it. The crowds marching on Palm Sunday weren’t dying congregations clinging to nostalgia. They were the Body of Christ remembering its original call: heal the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the naked and make peace.
When over 20,000 people collectively declare that caring for their neighbor is a spiritual mandate, not a political bargaining chip, the church is born again. When we march to ensure the hungry are fed—not as charity, but as justice—we stop acting like a country club and start acting like the resurrection people we claim to be. And when we stand as peacemakers in a culture of outrage, we offer the only kind of power that outlasts the tomb: the power of self-giving love.
This is the season of resurrection for the church. Not just a liturgical season, a living, breathing season. Not a return to the way things were in 1955 or 2005. That would be a ghost story, not a gospel. New life means dying to the illusion that we can bless power without serving the powerless. It means rising to walk alongside the marginalized, not above them.
For congregations discerning their future, the data is clear: decline usually comes from inward fixation. But vitality? Vitality comes from outward mission. The 20,000 marchers are not anomalies; they are the early signs of a church shedding its fear and moving beyond its walls.
New life is messy. It requires leaving the safety of the tomb. But if we are willing to march—not just for our own survival, but for the healing of the sick, the food for the hungry, and the peace of Christ—then the stone has already been rolled away. The church is rising again.
Looking for help moving from fear and fixation to vitality and sustainability? Contact us at info@faithx.net.
