The Greatest Sunrise of the Year
For many years, my church has hosted an Easter sunrise service on a local mountaintop overlook. The past few years I’ve arrived early, while it’s still dark, to help set up chairs and welcome people as they arrive.
It is often cool, even cold, on that mountaintop because it’s late winter or early spring. On several years in the past, I have worn multiple layers of jackets and watched as families join us swathed in blankets. I always look out over the city below just before the service begins. In a moment of quieted spirit, I appreciate the rising sun, and how it lights up the sky and the distant mountains and sets fire to the clouds.
I try to imagine, briefly, what it must have been like that morning 2000 years ago when the women arrived at Jesus’ tomb bearing their embalming materials and found it empty, with the stone rolled away and an angel waiting for them as a herald of His resurrection.
I think of how quickly their deep, dark grief was turned to joy that shone like the rising sun. I think of how they rushed back to tell the other disciples. I think of how Peter and John bolted for the tomb to see for themselves—how John entered and believed, and how Peter stayed behind, likely still hearing in his head the sound of a convicting rooster’s crow.
One of our pastors who has since moved on to another church used to sing a narrative song about the morning of the Resurrection during these sunrise services. You can listen to the song from the original artist, Don Francisco, here:
I get chills every time the ending comes and the singer, who is telling the story from the perspective of Peter, begins jubilantly proclaiming, “He’s alive, He’s alive, He’s alive and I’m forgiven, Heaven’s gates are open wide!”
I’ve often said in the last few years that I never want to get over what my Savior did for me. I was raised in the Church. I was baptized at the tender age of seven. I have served in the Church for most of my adult life. But for someone like me who has heard the gospel message almost from the day he was born, it can be all too easy to forget the profundity of this miracle of life from death. All too easy…
May I never forget, may I never take for granted, the miraculous gift of love and grace that my Heavenly Father gave me by robbing the grave of His Son! May I never shrug my shoulders at it or think of the Gospel as some obvious and ordinary thing! I serve a Savior who died, but didn’t stay dead, and is alive once more, interceding for me at the right hand of the Father at this very moment!
It is Christ’s death and resurrection that robs Hell of its victory and Death of its sting. I was destined for death with a condemned soul. But because of Him, I have eternal life through His Spirit, a “not guilty” verdict regarding my sin and mistakes, and a “well done, good and faithful servant” when I finally see Him face to face.
So I look out over the city at the sunrise service, breathing in the early morning air, grateful for the victory that Jesus gives. And despite the chaos and darkness of the world, I smile, because my God is in control, and my Savior is coming again one day to remake the whole world. Every sunrise is a gift, but an Easter sunrise really takes the cake.