The story is told of W.E. Sangster, one of Britain’s premier preachers, that at the prime of his ministry he began to notice some uneasiness in his throat and a dragging in his leg. He went to a doctor and found he had an incurable disease that causes progressive muscular atrophy: his muscles would gradually waste away, his voice would fail, his throat would soon become unable to swallow.

Rather than dwell on his misfortune and sink into self-pity, Sangster determined to make the most of his tomorrows. Figuring he could still write, and he would have even more time for prayer and meditation, he worked harder than ever. He wrote articles and books, and helped organize prayer communities throughout England. “I’m only in the kindergarten of suffering,” he told people who commiserated with him.

Gradually Sangster’s legs became useless. His voice disappeared completely, but he could still hold a pen, shakily. On Easter morning, just a few weeks before he died, he wrote a letter to his daughter. In it he wrote, “It is terrible to wake up on Easter morning and have no voice with which to shout, ‘He is risen!’ but it would be still more terrible to have a voice and not want to shout it.”

Sangster’s response of faith is a reminder that Easter is that one day—that most extraordinary day—of the year when all the misfortune of the world and of our individual lives can be seen most clearly in relation to the unfathomable power of God. It is the day of all days when we can sense something of hope, the offer of new life, the positive possibilities just over the horizon.

It is also a reminder that our ability even to make response to the power of God at work among us is a gift in itself. And that one of the great tragedies of the world is that people do not recognize the gift for what it is.

Do we have a voice? Let us use it! Do we have a hand to give? Let us offer it! Do we have a sense of joy and hope? Let us share it! Do we have a sense of purpose? Let us act on it! The future is now! He is risen! Shout it!