April 13, 2020 Easter Sunrise

I can’t say Easter was a super huge deal for me growing up. In my younger years, it meant getting to wear a new dress to church, and of course, Easter candy. In my teen years, it was all about the meal, and of course, Easter candy. I knew that Easter was a celebration of the resurrection of Jesus, but that part didn’t sink in very deeply. By the time I got to college, I was becoming fairly antagonistic to Christianity anyway. Easter – bah! Humbug!

Then something cataclysmic happened. My best friend transferred to UMD (bad enough in itself) and then went and had a conversion experience, the dreaded born-again thing. Ugh. She and I had been completely sympatico on all things pertaining to God, the main thing being that believing in some sort of God was acceptable, but this whole business of “Jesus is the only way,” was definitely out of bounds. Nope.

I went up to visit her fairly soon after this and providentially this happened to be over Easter weekend. O, the depths of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God. She informed me that she’d be attending a sunrise Easter service outside and did I want to come along. Hmm…getting up early – STRIKE ONE. It was going to be somewhat cold out. STRIKE TWO. And the Jesus thing. STRIKE THREE. “Sure, I’ll come,” was what came out of my mouth instead of “No thanks, I’ll just sleep in.”

Easter morning pre-dawn found us clambering up a hillside, grabbing hold of random trees branches for stability, and making our way through brush along the way. I was cold, I was tired and crabby and felt a little bit crazy for being associated with this small group of fanatics. We got to our destination and milled around uncertainly as the sun began to rise. Fortunately, somebody seemed to be in charge, a friendly guy wearing a bandana around his forehead. He read from the Bible, said some earnest things, and then (my memory is somewhat dim on this part) I think people hung things on a tree that had something to do with their faith. It’s possible that an impromptu hymn or chorus of praise was sung. I’m guessing there were prayers. There were proclamations of joy about the resurrected Lord. I didn’t participate, but was strangely moved by this joyous ritual. Suddenly it didn’t seem like I was surrounded by fanatics, but by people who knew something, or Someone, that I didn’t know.

A fresh breeze was blowing that morning – in the air and in my soul. I wasn’t a Christian when I went back down the hill, but I wasn’t the same person who had climbed up that hill, either.

He is risen! He is risen indeed! (I can still say that, even though it is now the day after Easter). Hallelujah!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. Maybe even at sunrise.