And when the sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, had bought sweet spices, that they might come and anoint him. And very early in the morning the first day of the week, they came unto the sepulchre at the rising of the sun. Mark 16:1-2I have often wondered what it would have been like to be Mary or Salome or Joanna on that first Easter morning. Were they afraid for their lives if they were discovered to be disciples of Jesus? What did they talk about? His smile? His teaching? The way He changed them? His love for the unlovely? Their last time with Him before He died? We have no idea, but their early morning devotion has created a desire by millions of Christ’s followers to celebrate Christ’s resurrection at dawn on Easter morning.
For me, the memories of Easter sunrise services are many. As a child in Indonesia, my parents awakened me and my brothers and sisters. We dressed quickly in the darkness, grabbed sweaters and flashlights, and headed out into the crisp air of the predawn, following dewy paths to the beach. The youngest child rode most of the way on Daddy’s back. There on the beach, we gazed at the horizon, where the night’s stars gave way to morning’s glory. As the sky lightened, Dad retold the story of that first Easter morning, adding emotion to the words, “He is not here! He is risen!” As waves crashed on the beach and palm trees waved, we joined their celebration and sang with abandon. After all, we were the only ones there, God was our only audience, and there was no better day to give Him praise.
In the Philippines, we gathered at dawn in the American Cemetery. Surrounded by tombstones, some of the teenagers dashed down the hillside into the group gathered shouting, “He’s alive!” And how we sang! Surrounded by death, we praised the One who had power over death, the One who is Life.
In southern Maine, we gathered on the lawn of a seaside hotel, where the aroma of bacon wafted from the hotel’s kitchen. As the waves gently lapped at the shore and seagulls soared overhead, we awakened the hotel guests with our songs of praise. Some came out on their balconies and joined our worship.
Sometimes, I have been in situations where I could not attend a sunrise service. On one of those occasions, I arose before sunrise and climbed the stairs to the flat roof. As the city began to awaken and the sun began its day’s journey across the skies over Mexico, I sat alone reading my Bible, praying, and singing praises to God for His amazing redemption.
Here we gather in a building. It’s often much too cold to be outside at dawn on Easter. In our heated auditorium, we watch the sun light the room and the world outside. With a piano accompanying, we sing “He Lives!” I am amazed again by the mixed mercy and justice of God who would allow me to be redeemed when I deserve only His judgment.
So while I have no idea what it was really like for Mary, Mary and Salome on that first Easter morning, I am so thankful for their early morning expedition. Now I have a lifetime of early morning memories of celebrating Jesus’ resurrection. But that’s not what is most important to me. Their story cements the amazing reality that Jesus conquered death. After all, if it were a lie, who would have entrusted these simple women with the first news of it? Wouldn’t you have chosen someone rich and famous like Joseph of Arimethea or one of the religious elite like Nicodemus? I would have.
So thank You, Lord, for Easter’s dawn, and for the testimony of these women. Thank you for entrusting them with the first news of Your resurrection. Thank you that while tomorrow is in some ways just another day, it is a special day when we can celebrate with abandon. If You would do all of that for us, then You will give us everything we need and will take us safely through all our days until we see You face to face if we will just follow You every step of the way. Lord, I love You. Thank You. Amen.
For me, the memories of Easter sunrise services are many. As a child in Indonesia, my parents awakened me and my brothers and sisters. We dressed quickly in the darkness, grabbed sweaters and flashlights, and headed out into the crisp air of the predawn, following dewy paths to the beach. The youngest child rode most of the way on Daddy’s back. There on the beach, we gazed at the horizon, where the night’s stars gave way to morning’s glory. As the sky lightened, Dad retold the story of that first Easter morning, adding emotion to the words, “He is not here! He is risen!” As waves crashed on the beach and palm trees waved, we joined their celebration and sang with abandon. After all, we were the only ones there, God was our only audience, and there was no better day to give Him praise.
In the Philippines, we gathered at dawn in the American Cemetery. Surrounded by tombstones, some of the teenagers dashed down the hillside into the group gathered shouting, “He’s alive!” And how we sang! Surrounded by death, we praised the One who had power over death, the One who is Life.
In southern Maine, we gathered on the lawn of a seaside hotel, where the aroma of bacon wafted from the hotel’s kitchen. As the waves gently lapped at the shore and seagulls soared overhead, we awakened the hotel guests with our songs of praise. Some came out on their balconies and joined our worship.
Sometimes, I have been in situations where I could not attend a sunrise service. On one of those occasions, I arose before sunrise and climbed the stairs to the flat roof. As the city began to awaken and the sun began its day’s journey across the skies over Mexico, I sat alone reading my Bible, praying, and singing praises to God for His amazing redemption.
Here we gather in a building. It’s often much too cold to be outside at dawn on Easter. In our heated auditorium, we watch the sun light the room and the world outside. With a piano accompanying, we sing “He Lives!” I am amazed again by the mixed mercy and justice of God who would allow me to be redeemed when I deserve only His judgment.
So while I have no idea what it was really like for Mary, Mary and Salome on that first Easter morning, I am so thankful for their early morning expedition. Now I have a lifetime of early morning memories of celebrating Jesus’ resurrection. But that’s not what is most important to me. Their story cements the amazing reality that Jesus conquered death. After all, if it were a lie, who would have entrusted these simple women with the first news of it? Wouldn’t you have chosen someone rich and famous like Joseph of Arimethea or one of the religious elite like Nicodemus? I would have.
So thank You, Lord, for Easter’s dawn, and for the testimony of these women. Thank you for entrusting them with the first news of Your resurrection. Thank you that while tomorrow is in some ways just another day, it is a special day when we can celebrate with abandon. If You would do all of that for us, then You will give us everything we need and will take us safely through all our days until we see You face to face if we will just follow You every step of the way. Lord, I love You. Thank You. Amen.
