Easter Morning

It was quiet.  That's what strikes me, over and over.  After a whirlwind week of crowds shouting, whether it was "Hosanna!" or "Crucify him!"...now it was still.  Most of the people had left, gone back to their lives.  But two woman could not stay home or move on.  They had lost their friend, their teacher, and they were there to give him a last show of respect.  They hadn't been part of the angry crowd, but they had been too afraid to approach him as he hung, as he died.  So they stood at a distance.  Now they were approaching.  They wanted to be near him one last time.

If you know me at all, you know how much I love sleep.  How I prefer sunsets to sunrises, because I don't ever want to be awake before the sun comes up.  But one day each year (and no, its not on Christmas), I like to watch the sunrise.  Because of the stillness.  Because, despite the passage of thousands of years, I feel like those women on that morning.  My heart is heavy, weighed down by the pain we inflicted on him.

When I was growing up, our church did a "Sunrise Service" every Easter.  We went to church at 7am and had a quiet, still, reflective service.  It was shorter than usual, and our pastor, who was prone to raising his voice in a Sunday sermon, was calm and collected as he talked about the ladies going to the tomb.  When it was over, we went into the Fellowship Hall and had breakfast with the small group of people who, like my family, showed up any time the church was open...even if it was ridiculously early in the morning.  After breakfast, we would return to the sanctuary, where we were joined by the rest of the congregation at the normal time, and the Easter service would commence.  The noise level would gradually increase, until the very end, when we all joined in on the song "Arise, my Love".  The church saved its entire pyrotechnic budget for this song, when smoke would pour out from the empty tomb, light would shine out around the man chosen to play Jesus as he walked onstage to show he was indeed alive.

And it is this time of day, the quiet morning before the rest of the world got in on the miracle, that I chose to spend with my dad, climbing a mountain on the Texas/Mexico border last Easter.  Like the women, we are just followers; not the best known or the most prolific, just two people who love Jesus.  When we got to the top, we found ourselves at the foot of the cross.  We were the only two people there.  The rest of the world was below and distant, just beginning their day, but we had already walked for over an hour.  The sun had followed us on our journey, had risen over the mountains to illuminate the cross.  And I discovered what those two women found on the first Easter...that my Savior was no longer there.  He had risen, gone out, and shown himself.  Like the sun shining over the land, He was everywhere I looked.

This Easter, it is my hope that you would find Jesus right where you are.  And when you do, will you join me?  Will you step out of the angry crowd and come close to the cross?  Because there you will find peace and comfort and mercy.