Down to the River: An unconventional Easter sunrise service

Then the women went away quickly from the tomb, their hearts filled with awe and great joy, and ran to give the news to his disciples.

—Matthew 28:8 PHILLIPS

I arose early on Easter morning and decided to take a walk. As I started out, something stirred in me and I took off running. I am not a runner, so this was odd, but it felt good to run even for a little while, freeing and exhilarating.

My goal was to worship at the water’s edge, but making it to the beach could be a problem. As I had expected, I came upon an obstacle in my path—electrified barbed wire. Normally used to contain cattle in pastures for grazing, it was keeping me from venturing farther. I could see the river in the distance but couldn’t get to my desired sanctuary. I longed to see the sunlight dance like diamonds on the surface, hear the waves lap upon the shore, the rhythm of the river lulling my spirit to a place of peace.

Perhaps I could unhook the three strands that blocked my passage. Carefully, I removed the lower wire and placed it on the ground while it snapped and cracked at me, boasting its powerful punch. Then I attempted to remove the middle strand but found I didn’t have the strength to maneuver the hook out of the wired eye. Now what?

What if Life Came in Packages? Would You Unwrap Them All?

Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

—James 1:2-4

I attended my granddaughter’s school Christmas program on Friday and was delighted by the present parade. Each student was dressed as a present, most of them wearing a cardboard box covered in gift wrap, as was Addison’s costume. Of course, I had to take her picture. Later I thought, What a cute Christmas card that would make if I could get all ten of my grandchildren to wear cardboard gift boxes! They are all certainly gifts to me. Anyone who is blessed with (grand)children would most likely agree, as children bring joy.

The Gift of Addison

What if all of life came to us in packages? The good and the bad. Our spouse, our job, our children, as well as cancer, unemployment, and car accidents. Would you shake the boxes to try to determine what’s inside before opening them? What if you unwrapped one child, would you take a chance and keep unwrapping in hopes of a second, even though you knew you might unwrap a trial instead?

Garment of Praise: Exchanging pain for joy

“To console those who mourn in Zion,

To give them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;

That they may be called trees of righteousness,

The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

—Isaiah 61:3

I was barely a teenager when I got the opportunity to join the church choir. The director, Miss Moreland, was my neighbor. She drove my two sisters and me to and from choir practice each week leading up to Christmas. We were preparing to sing for midnight mass. I had never even stayed up late enough to attend midnight mass, let alone sing for it. What a privilege!

Our practices were held in the choir loft. I remember climbing those creaky stairs for the first time. I found myself rising higher and higher until the wooden rafters surrounded me, as the loft was situated in the ridge of the roof, its sloping walls on either side. I remember finding a seat on a bench next to my school friend Rocky and being in awe as I peered over the rail at the rows of pews below, which seemed so small from my new vantage point.

Rise and Shine

Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.

Isaiah 60:1 (NRSV)

A flash of color on my stone path caught my eye. I stooped to get a closer view. A pansy, dressed in the color of kings, met me face to face. I gasped.

“How did you get here?” I asked, but all the while I knew.

In the fall, the wind picked up a seed from my plants on the deck and tossed it down below to the crack in the path. The seed found a bed in the dark earth and slept there all winter.

Spring came and switched on the light, like my mother used to do to wake me for school.

“Rise and shine!” she would say, as she threw back my cover. And I would long to switch off that light, cover my head and go back to sleep.

When we live in sin, we are like that. We want to stay in the dark and away from the light that exposes our sin. But when we admit our failing and allow God’s Light to penetrate our heart of stone (see Ezekiel 36:26), He will forgive our sin (see 1 John 1:9) and give us new life, like the sun gives to the pansy seed.

He will fill our heart with joy, and we will spring forth to bring joy to those along our path.

Lord, let the light of Your face shine on us (Psalm 4:6b).

Does God Really Love Us All The Same?

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

—Romans 5:8

“Pick a sticker,” my five-year-old granddaughter Addie said, holding out a sheet to her father, my son Tim.

“Ok,” he said, as he began to lift one.

“Not that one!” Addie interrupted, “That’s for someone special.”

“What?!”

“That’s for Grandma,” she whispered.

“Ooooh,” Tim acknowledged.

Addie turned toward me. “Here, Grandma. This one’s for you,” she said, peeling off a pink flower sticker.

“Well, thank you! You know pink is my favorite color, and I love flowers!”

“Uh-huh,” she smiled, as she nodded knowingly, her blue eyes meeting mine.

Returning the smile, I pressed the sticker firmly over my heart.

Turn the Light on

I am the Lord; I have called you in righteousness;

I will take you by the hand and keep you;

I will give you as a covenant for the people,

a light for the nations,

to open the eyes that are blind,

to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,

from the prison those who sit in darkness.

—Isaiah 42:6-7

I pulled my sunglasses from my beach bag and joined my daughter, Emma, who was sitting on the edge of the baby pool, keeping an eye on her two-year-old, Layla. With temperatures in the nineties, it felt good to sink my feet into the silky liquid. It felt good to be with family, basking in the brightness. I thanked God for my blessings—especially the blessing of Grandparents Day, which meant free admission to the water park for me.

With gladness written all over her face, Layla pranced and twirled before us. She grabbed the hand of a little boy, who wore a green sun hat, and coaxed him to join her in the dance. Emma and I laughed at their escapades, but not nearly as much as the green hatted boy’s parents. Layla made her way to a friendly whale and climbed upon its back. Her smile broadened as she slid down its slippery tail, landing in the water with a splash. Crawling along the bottom of the pool with her hands, as her legs floated behind her, she called out to us, “I’m swimming!” 

Finally, we could resist the excitement no longer and lowered our bodies into pool. At about the same time as we slipped into the water, the sun slipped behind a cloud, turning the brightness noticeably dim. Layla looked around, furrowing her brow. “Turn the light on,” she said.

Smile! It's free!

A cheerful look brings joy to the heart; good news makes for good health.

Proverbs 15:30 

I was ready to pitch it in the trash along with all the other junk mail. But just as I picked it up, the words from the advertisement billowed, “Smile!  It’s free!”

Immediately I recalled an incident from earlier in the week. My student had pointed to my employee badge, “I like that picture.”

“This?”

“Yeah, you’re smiling.  You should do that more often.”

Ouch! Was it true that I rarely wore a smile? What keeps me from smiling?