Lingering Resurrection Glory

Here it is, the fourth week of Easter, and I am still soaking in
the lingering glory of Resurrection Sunday. All during Holy
Week (the seven days beginning on Palm Sunday and running
through to Easter Sunday) God's people heard, saw, tasted,
sang, spoke, confessed, viewed dramatizations, imagined, re-
flected, meditated, and heard heart-stirring music about the
person and work of Jesus Christ on the Cross. I feel like I had
feasted at a seven course royal banguet and since then haven't
had the desire to eat.

Late on the night before Easter a small, intimate group of us met
in an historic Presbyterian church in town. We sang an ancient
Christian hymn of Christ's resurrection and greeted the Risen
Christ at midnight. On Easter Sunday I joined with others at
my home church to praise God for what God had done in Jesus
Christ. Later that day I enjoyed a wonderful nap in the after-
noon before joining dear friends for an Easter dinner and relax-
ation. Sadly, earlier that afternoon I learned that a special cous-
in had passed away the day before. As another special cousin
explained it, as a believer he experienced his first full day in
Heaven on Easter!

But for me the highpoint of Easter Day and of Holy Week was
the sunrise Easter service held on a promontory overlooking
the North Sea. Over two hundred of us from various churches
in town gathered on the site of an ancient church where Chris-
tians have met to worship God for over twelve hundred years.
We sang songs of praise, prayed, and heard proclaimed the
Good News of the Risen Christ. Then we made are way to the
nearby grounds of the 'younger' Cathedral raised up nearly
nine hundred years ago, but reduced to ruins in the sixteenth
century. The bread and the cup of the Lord's Supper were wait-
ing for us on the foundation of the high altar of the ancient cathe-
dral, once a great pilgrimage destination in the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries. Then we passed the cup and the bread from
hand to hand, to everyone in the group.

I couldn't help but sense the sacredness of the time and space.
Truly we were on holy ground. As I stood there I reflected on
women and men of centuries past who had stood in the same
spots where we were standing: disciples of Colomba from Iona,
medieval serfs and monks, pilgrims from near and afar, fiery
and fired-up reformers, worn out fishermen and their famil-
ies, hard working and hardly working students and towns peo-
ple, and even golfers. Indeed, I sensed the communion of the
saints. I also had a deep sense of being in communion with peo-
ple all over the world who were meeting that very day to wor-
ship the Living Christ.

After the services people gathered for bacon rolls and warm
drinks. I took my time joining them and slowly worked my way
along the bluffs, pondering Christ's resurrection. I soaked up the
warmth of the rising sun and I felt the gentle touch of the sea
breeze upon my skin. There was something magical about the
light: it seemed to radiate a golden glow upon the earth that
heightened the colors of things. The sea and sky were a majes-
tic blue, and there were dazzling yellow flowers clinging to
green-covered bluffs. The sea was gentle, and waves gently lap-
ped up upon the beach below. Birds glided on air currents above
me and made their own kind of music. I will never forget that.

In it all I pondered the mystery of the faith: Christ has died,
Christ is risen, Christ will come again.

Blessings to you and yours.