I’d never considered warmth a
by-product of peace. Not until this last Easter Sunday, April 16, when I
attended Easter Sunrise Service.
My husband and I rousted ourselves
out of bed at 5:00 AM, (still dark here in the Southwest), dressed for service,
hopped in our car and headed to the west side of our nine thousand-plus-foot mountain
range.
Now, for those of you who have never
tiptoed in the desert, even an eighty-nine-degree day—like our Easter
was—started out as a fifty-seven-degree night. And that was what it registered
at the airport, in “the valley”. At our
nearly three-thousand-foot elevation home in The Foothills of the Santa
Catalina Mountains, it was colder, and the sunrise service location—another
1,000-foot elevation rise—colder still.
As we stepped from our car in the
pre-dawn light, the wind whistled across the hilltop setting. While I was
grateful for the sweater I wore, I regretted my skirted legs being exposed to
the cold. I looked at my husband who is generally HOT. He had his arms wrapped
around his waist. “It’s cold up here!
I should have brought a jacket.” He was wearing dress slacks and a
long-sleeved, lavender (Easter egg purple) dress shirt.
We headed to the outdoor seating
area, and I snagged a front row seat. Not difficult since we were real early
birds. The ushers were still carting out the hymnals, wheeling out the piano,
and connecting the portable sound system. Determined not to miss the sunrise,
we’d scheduled an early arrival. I plunked my purse on a chair, walked the
short distance to the east-facing wall, and pointed my eyeballs toward the
granite ridge in the not-so-far-away distance. While you could see the light
effects from the sunrise that had already occurred on the other side of the
mountain, the sun had still not opened the door on
our side. It was cold. Chris and I huddled side-by-side like puppies. Some
worshipers cocooned themselves in blankets. (They’d anticipated what to
expect.)
We waited. And waited. And waited.
Then the first arc of the sun popped
above the ridge and split the sky like a herald making a joyous announcement.
Chris and I snagged our sunglasses, watched it elevate and glisten some more, and
then took our seats to await the start of service. In spite of our efforts to
gaze at it, it was too bright for even sunglass-clad eyes.
But as the sun continued to rise, something sort of
miraculous took place. Nothing you’d usually consider out-of-the-ordinary. A
miracle that happens every day, even though I don’t take note of it.
My face and cheeks responded first,
absorbing the heat rocketing toward me. Then, like a gentle caress of a loving
touch, the radiation seeped through my body and spread into my legs. You could
feel the atmosphere heating around us, the molecules awakening from the
motion-dampening chill.
“Do you feel that?” I asked my
husband at the same moment he whispered, “Wow!”
“Isn’t that amazing?” we uttered in
unison.
Our bodies—once shielding themselves
against the cold—relaxed, and we exhaled simultaneously. The experience gave
new meaning to the miracle of creation, the faithfulness of God. The
life-giving and life-sustaining warmth and peace of His creation and unfailing
love. Like the prophet Jeremiah, I felt like singing out:
“The steadfast
love of the Lord never ceases;
his
mercies never come to an end;
they are new
every morning;
great
is your faithfulness” (NKJV 3:22-23).
Our worship would not be distracted that
day by the temperature. In fact, it would be enhanced by it. If I had dressed
for the cold, or wrapped myself in a blanket, I would have missed it. The sun’s
rays and accompanying warmth drove home the truth of steadfast love, endless
mercies, morning newness in the face of evening cold, and mind-boggling
faithfulness.
Why oh why do I continue to take it
for granted?
At once, joy danced with peace in my
soul. And I could sense my husband’s soul dancing too. We were mesmerized and entwined
by peace, love, and joy. Our bodies were warmed by it. Peace warmed our bodies and the warmth triggered peace.
Before the first rousing Wesley Easter
hymn vibrated the piano and celebrating voices, I was ready to proclaim the
Hebrews 13:20 benediction:
“Now may the God
of peace [wholeness; Shalom] who brought up our Lord Jesus from the dead, that
great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant,
make you complete in every good work to do His will, working in you what is
well pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory
forever and ever. Amen.”
It was one of those everyday
miracles. One I hope I never forget.
___________________________________
Pursing peace as
we press on in the race to glory…
See you next week!
Blessings,
Andrea
May you prosper in all
things and be in health, just as your soul prospers (3 John 2).
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