The first Easter with a congregation is a special, precious time. It’s like the first time you see the one you love all dressed up. For some, that moment may come on a special date night, or as they walk down the aisle. There is a special tingle and a sense that, “Oh, this whole thing really is a great idea, isn’t it?” This first Easter in Blue Springs feels something like that.
The sanctuary is currently in its Maundy Thursday mode, barren of any brass and draped in black. In awhile, we’ll tell the story of Christ’s death in ever-increasing darkness. The service, as solemn as it is, has its own beauty, and I look forward to experiencing it in our sanctuary.
The Good Friday Blues service is something unique that Andy and I bring to this congregation. I think it’s a gift they’ll enjoy- I hope so.
I walked down to the outdoor chapel by the pond just a little while ago, which is prepared for the Easter sunrise service. Some wonderful people have lined the long path through the field with tiki torches, and they have mowed and trimmed. The rugged wooden cross had been wrapped in chicken wire, ready to receive our Easter morning flowers.
I’ve been told how glorious the sanctuary will look on Easter morning, and that our baptismal area will be transformed into a springtime garden with dozens of potted springtime flowers. There will be brass and timpani and choirs at our traditional services. Our contemporary service will have at least one additional musician, and it will feature some outstanding music to praise the risen Christ. It will be fabulous to see our sanctuary Easter-full with people!
All told, there are seven worship experiences here between now and noon Easter. I will be preaching at five of them, which involves three separate sermons. In addition, there have been many details to plan for each service. (I am surrounded by an extraordinary staff and volunteers, who have been working really hard.) All of this planning and preaching has been a source of some anxiety on my part, as you may expect.
And now, on Thursday afternoon, I have a sense of satisfaction. I have planned and prayed and hoped as much as I can. The worship services, with the appropriate sermons, are neatly clipped together in a pile on my desk. Beginning tonight, I simply need to take whatever is on top into the next service. There are a few other details that are prepared also, like directional signs for the sunrise service (including a dreaded “Due to weather, we will hold sunrise in the sanctuary” sign. I don’t want to use it, but I am prepared if I must.) Yes, I am ready for the resurrection, and it feels good.
Funny thing, though. The resurrection isn’t actually dependent on what I do or don’t do. Even if I had frittered away the past weeks and walked into worship empty handed, the resurrection would still be real. When it comes down to it, it doesn’t depend on me. It depends on God. And for that, I am deeply, deeply grateful. Christ is risen! Thanks be to God . . .
