But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified , and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest.
Luke 24:1-9
In the earliest days of the church, while the original Apostles were stillactively engaged in the leadership of this fledgling faith, many of the celebrations in the church we enjoy today were not part of its reality. There was no Christmas celebration. There was no celebration of Epiphany. There was no celebration of Pentecost. The seasons of Advent, Lent, and Pentecost were not woven into the fabric of the church yet. But, Easter was.
Easter was celebrated every Sunday, as recognition of the day that our Lord rose from the tomb. Every Sunday was, in a sense, a mini celebration of Easter. This is why the majority of the Christian community gathers for worship on Sunday to this day; each week we celebrate resurrection.
This does not take away from the importance of Easter Day, which we celebrate annually. Each year, in communities all around the world, we gather in a myriad of venues, worship styles, and languages to celebrate this holy and auspicious day, the day of resurrection.
Mamaw loved going to church. Missing Sunday worship and Sunday school to her was anathema; she just wasn’t going to do it. She loved gathering with her long-time friends to celebrate this mini Easter every Sunday and to hear the words of promise, hope, and salvation. She loved the prayers and she loved the music, and being able to enjoy all this with her family was heaven on earth to her. However, as with many people, as she aged and her body became frailer this became more and more challenging, and ultimately impossible.
Mamaw , despite her frailty, fought on, and fought valiantly to maintain this deeply held value in her life. About a year before her death she adopted the practice of rising very early on Sunday mornings, eating a meager breakfast, bathing and dressing before returning to her bed to rest from the exertion those activities brought. Then, rested again, she rose, straightened her hair and headed to church. Immediately after church, she returned home to rest so that she had the energy to prepare lunch for herself. Despite all this effort and exhaustion, her soul was lifted and inwardly she rejoiced at having been able to participate in worship. A few months before her death, however, even this regimen proved to be too great, and she was no longer able to make it to church at all.
I knew how much this weighed on her, and the emotional and spiritual pain that not being able to gather with her church caused her. As a matter of fact, a number of us in the greater family noticed this, and it grieved each of us on her behalf.
At this point, it was about three months until Easter and I discussed with some of my family this concern, but I also had a possible solution. I recommended to them that we bring church to her. They were not quite sure what I meant, so I explained that Easter was coming soon and that the tradition of an Easter sunrise service is one that many churches enjoy. I proposed that we conduct an Easter sunrise service right there on the front yard, invite friends and family, and Mamaw would have to go no further than her own front porch to join us. I was excited when they told me that it was a great idea. I was terrified when they told me to go ahead and do it. Oh my gosh, what have I gotten myself into?!?
The next three months were a whirlwind of activity that changed my life forever. I began to plan the service and plot out in my head how it would all work. I also spoke with one of my cousins, James, about conducting a family golf tournament the same weekend. Both plans moved forward and took on a life of their own.
Having been a Scoutmaster for a number of years I was used to conducting worship services on the side of a trail on Sunday morning. Gathering a group of boys by a stream and talking about our faith and the wonder of God’s creation around us was comfortable and easy. Planning an Easter sunrise service, however, was way beyond anything I had ever done.
The closer we got to Easter that year it seemed the faster Mamaw’s health declined. We all hoped and prayed that she would be able to last until that great day, but her body was simply too weak. About three weeks before Easter, surrounded by her family and friends, she breathed her last.
Within just a few days we were gathered in that small country Methodist church, bidding farewell to a beloved grandmother, friend, mother, and saintly Christian woman. In the midst of our tears, however, was joy because we knew, by faith, that this death was not the end, and that she was now reunited with her beloved Philip, and her parents, and a litany of others who held a part of her heart. So we cried, and we celebrated.
During the course of the time around her funeral, there was some discussion about whether or not to continue with the sunrise service. Ultimately, as an aspect of our continued family healing, we decided to gather as we had planned in celebration of all that our God had done.
I had mentioned to Mamaw’s pastor during the preparation for her funeral that we had plans to conduct the Easter sunrise service at the house, and if any from the church wanted to join us that we would be honored to have them. Her pastor told me that they appreciated the offer, but the church already had plans in conjunction with another church in town. However, less than two weeks from Easter Mamaw’s pastor called to say that their Easter sunrise plans had fallen through and wondered if they could join us. I told her that would be incredible, but we may need a few more chairs and an extra pot of coffee or two; all was provided.
As mentioned, not having prepared or conducted a worship service of this magnitude before I was a bit apprehensive, but determined. Advice is something that all should be comfortable seeking, so I sought out my pastor to help me review my plans and preparation. While I was at the church for a Scout meeting, I quickly stopped by his office, explained to him what was going on, and asked him to read over my planned order of service and sermon. I wasn’t expecting too much; I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t throwing around too terribly much heresy – a little is OK.
Peter Setzer, my pastor, is a big man. He towers over me by nearly a foot, with enormous and loving hands. When he came and sought me out about half an hour later I wasn’t quite prepared. I had been under the impression that we would simply talk later. When that enormous and loving man grabbed me by the lapels, pushed me into the wall and said, “Quit your job now and go to seminary now!” I nearly came out of my skin. Clearly this man has lost all connection with his ability to objectively reason and for clear thought. But, no, he was deadly serious and he scared me to death.
I stammered and stuttered, and eventually spit out, “I’m an engineer. I can’t go to seminary.” I couldn’t begin to fathom how God could possibly use an engineer as a pastor; it’s just ludicrous. I tried my best to explain to him that this was just a one-time thing, and that I had no intention of ever leaving the engineering profession; I simply enjoyed it way too much. He did back down, but not much. He offered some great advice about conducting the service and sent me on my way, but his words stuck with me.
The Saturday of Easter weekend, we gathered for our family golf tournament; it was fun beyond compare. We laughed and enjoyed our fellowship in a way that has us bonded to one another for many years to come. After the golf tournament we returned to the farmhouse and started setting up for Easter morning. We had gone to the church and gathered supplies for the next day, including about 80 chairs. We knew that about 30-40 would be there from just the family and just went crazy and got about 40 more in case others showed up.
Gathering my cousins for a choir was an activity that goes beyond my wildest dreams. I had visions of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir performing in incredible four-part harmony. What I got was the Mormon Tabernacle Baseball Team who thought harmony was hominy grits to be plied with butter, salt, and pepper. I aimed my sights a bit lower and was exceedingly pleased with the faithful and loving response my cousins who mean more to me than words can express. We sang with joy and enthusiasm, and had a great time doing it. The song we sang together, Have You Seen Jesus My Lord, became the centerpiece of the homily I shared that morning.
On Easter morning I arrived at the old farmhouse about an hour before sunrise. Chairs were in place. A large wooden cross had been erected and placed on the lawn, draped with a white stole and flowers. Bulletins were prepared, and hot coffee was already on. It was quiet and serene; just peaceful and pleasant. No one beyond a few family members was there yet.
Just before time for the service to begin I walked out of the old farmhouse to see all 80 chairs filled and nearly 20 more people gathered around the fringes; I still don’t know how I didn’t weep like a baby at that moment. I looked upon the faces of friends and family who have each stolen a piece of my heart, and words can never fully express the love that I feel for each of them.
The morning was crisp and cool. Many were bundled up in warm jackets, and even a few had commandeered a blanket from one of the beds and wrapped it around themselves. The early glow of the sunrise was starting to light up the day, and we all gazed upon the misty pasture spreading out beside the house in wondrous awe. That day, we all stood on holy ground.
Leading my family and friends in worship that day felt right in a way that nothing else ever had. I was wrapped in a warm embrace of love by God and my family in a way that blessed me beyond compare. However, I was still not ready to leave my job as an engineer.
After worship the crowd gathered around tables we had already set up for breakfast. We sat and talked and continued to share the memories of our family and our faith for some time to come. During breakfast, Mamaw’s pastor sat with me for a while and echoed the sentiments of my own pastor; although in not quite so forceful of a manner. Over a cup of coffee and some homemade biscuits, she listened to all my reasons “why not” and offered a few “why I should” that I could not ignore, but I did for the moment.
The whole next year I reflected on the experience of leading that Easter service; it changed me irreparably. We gathered again for the next three years doing the same, but the next year was pivotal for me.
The planning, the golf tournament, and everything moved along much as that first Easter sunrise service had. But, God worked on me in an unexpected way throughout that year. As much as I tried to sluff off a sense of call to ministry I could not. Finally, just days after Easter that second year, I took my incredible wife to dinner for her birthday.
As she and I enjoyed our dinner and relished each other’s company I shared with her the feeling that I had about what our pastor had said, about what Mamaw’s pastor had said, and the experience of leading that service. I explained to her that as much as I want to ignore this that I no longer feel like I can, and I need to take it more seriously. Bottom line, I believe I need to explore going to seminary. But, I also want to explore going back in the Navy as a chaplain.
Her response to me was more confirmation than just about anything I could have ever asked for. She explained that she had known for years that this day would come, and she was planning for it. She said that over the previous several years that she had been doing different things with our family finances to put us in a better position for this day, and that she was ready to take that leap of faith with me.
Now, one bit of truth in this situation was that when I finally told her that I planned to explore this whole thing more and consider going to seminary her heart did momentarily stop. He thoughts went to, “Oh my God. I’m going to be a pastor’s wife.” She really did not like that idea at all. Then, when I mentioned that I would also be exploring going back in the Navy as a chaplain she breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, good. I can be an officer’s wife; that’s much better.”
Within a few months all of my essays were written and my applications were sent off. It was scary, but the right move for me to make.
As I reflect back on this entire episode in my life I can’t help but notice how life came from death. In many ways, it was my grandmother’s death, or her approaching death, that motivated me to move forward in this unique calling I have found myself in. Her death was painful, but I doubt that I would have made the same decisions had that tragedy not occurred in our family. I doubt that I would have gone down this path had I not enjoyed the loving relationship that I have with my family. This family, filled with so much faith, hope, and love has propelled me into places I would never have dreamed of.
Just over two years following Mamaw’s death I left my career as an engineer and found myself sitting in a classroom in seminary. In many ways I was still in denial that this could ever work, but in an effort to humor God and others I would at least give it a try. But, make no mistake about it; I do still keep my toolbox around just in case this whole chaplain thing doesn’t work out.
Luke 24:1-9
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| The Resurrection Rafaello Sanzio of Urbino |
In the earliest days of the church, while the original Apostles were still
This does not take away from the importance of Easter Day, which we celebrate annually. Each year, in communities all around the world, we gather in a myriad of venues, worship styles, and languages to celebrate this holy and auspicious day, the day of resurrection.
I knew how much this weighed on her, and the emotional and spiritual pain that not being able to gather with her church caused her. As a matter of fact, a number of us in the greater family noticed this, and it grieved each of us on her behalf.
At this point, it was about three months until Easter and I discussed with some of my family this concern, but I also had a possible solution. I recommended to them that we bring church to her. They were not quite sure what I meant, so I explained that Easter was coming soon and that the tradition of an Easter sunrise service is one that many churches enjoy. I proposed that we conduct an Easter sunrise service right there on the front yard, invite friends and family, and Mamaw would have to go no further than her own front porch to join us. I was excited when they told me that it was a great idea. I was terrified when they told me to go ahead and do it. Oh my gosh, what have I gotten myself into?!?
The next three months were a whirlwind of activity that changed my life forever. I began to plan the service and plot out in my head how it would all work. I also spoke with one of my cousins, James, about conducting a family golf tournament the same weekend. Both plans moved forward and took on a life of their own.
Having been a Scoutmaster for a number of years I was used to conducting worship services on the side of a trail on Sunday morning. Gathering a group of boys by a stream and talking about our faith and the wonder of God’s creation around us was comfortable and easy. Planning an Easter sunrise service, however, was way beyond anything I had ever done.
The closer we got to Easter that year it seemed the faster Mamaw’s health declined. We all hoped and prayed that she would be able to last until that great day, but her body was simply too weak. About three weeks before Easter, surrounded by her family and friends, she breathed her last.
Within just a few days we were gathered in that small country Methodist church, bidding farewell to a beloved grandmother, friend, mother, and saintly Christian woman. In the midst of our tears, however, was joy because we knew, by faith, that this death was not the end, and that she was now reunited with her beloved Philip, and her parents, and a litany of others who held a part of her heart. So we cried, and we celebrated.
During the course of the time around her funeral, there was some discussion about whether or not to continue with the sunrise service. Ultimately, as an aspect of our continued family healing, we decided to gather as we had planned in celebration of all that our God had done.
I had mentioned to Mamaw’s pastor during the preparation for her funeral that we had plans to conduct the Easter sunrise service at the house, and if any from the church wanted to join us that we would be honored to have them. Her pastor told me that they appreciated the offer, but the church already had plans in conjunction with another church in town. However, less than two weeks from Easter Mamaw’s pastor called to say that their Easter sunrise plans had fallen through and wondered if they could join us. I told her that would be incredible, but we may need a few more chairs and an extra pot of coffee or two; all was provided.
As mentioned, not having prepared or conducted a worship service of this magnitude before I was a bit apprehensive, but determined. Advice is something that all should be comfortable seeking, so I sought out my pastor to help me review my plans and preparation. While I was at the church for a Scout meeting, I quickly stopped by his office, explained to him what was going on, and asked him to read over my planned order of service and sermon. I wasn’t expecting too much; I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t throwing around too terribly much heresy – a little is OK.
Peter Setzer, my pastor, is a big man. He towers over me by nearly a foot, with enormous and loving hands. When he came and sought me out about half an hour later I wasn’t quite prepared. I had been under the impression that we would simply talk later. When that enormous and loving man grabbed me by the lapels, pushed me into the wall and said, “Quit your job now and go to seminary now!” I nearly came out of my skin. Clearly this man has lost all connection with his ability to objectively reason and for clear thought. But, no, he was deadly serious and he scared me to death.
I stammered and stuttered, and eventually spit out, “I’m an engineer. I can’t go to seminary.” I couldn’t begin to fathom how God could possibly use an engineer as a pastor; it’s just ludicrous. I tried my best to explain to him that this was just a one-time thing, and that I had no intention of ever leaving the engineering profession; I simply enjoyed it way too much. He did back down, but not much. He offered some great advice about conducting the service and sent me on my way, but his words stuck with me.
The Saturday of Easter weekend, we gathered for our family golf tournament; it was fun beyond compare. We laughed and enjoyed our fellowship in a way that has us bonded to one another for many years to come. After the golf tournament we returned to the farmhouse and started setting up for Easter morning. We had gone to the church and gathered supplies for the next day, including about 80 chairs. We knew that about 30-40 would be there from just the family and just went crazy and got about 40 more in case others showed up.
Gathering my cousins for a choir was an activity that goes beyond my wildest dreams. I had visions of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir performing in incredible four-part harmony. What I got was the Mormon Tabernacle Baseball Team who thought harmony was hominy grits to be plied with butter, salt, and pepper. I aimed my sights a bit lower and was exceedingly pleased with the faithful and loving response my cousins who mean more to me than words can express. We sang with joy and enthusiasm, and had a great time doing it. The song we sang together, Have You Seen Jesus My Lord, became the centerpiece of the homily I shared that morning.
On Easter morning I arrived at the old farmhouse about an hour before sunrise. Chairs were in place. A large wooden cross had been erected and placed on the lawn, draped with a white stole and flowers. Bulletins were prepared, and hot coffee was already on. It was quiet and serene; just peaceful and pleasant. No one beyond a few family members was there yet.
Just before time for the service to begin I walked out of the old farmhouse to see all 80 chairs filled and nearly 20 more people gathered around the fringes; I still don’t know how I didn’t weep like a baby at that moment. I looked upon the faces of friends and family who have each stolen a piece of my heart, and words can never fully express the love that I feel for each of them.
The morning was crisp and cool. Many were bundled up in warm jackets, and even a few had commandeered a blanket from one of the beds and wrapped it around themselves. The early glow of the sunrise was starting to light up the day, and we all gazed upon the misty pasture spreading out beside the house in wondrous awe. That day, we all stood on holy ground.
Leading my family and friends in worship that day felt right in a way that nothing else ever had. I was wrapped in a warm embrace of love by God and my family in a way that blessed me beyond compare. However, I was still not ready to leave my job as an engineer.
After worship the crowd gathered around tables we had already set up for breakfast. We sat and talked and continued to share the memories of our family and our faith for some time to come. During breakfast, Mamaw’s pastor sat with me for a while and echoed the sentiments of my own pastor; although in not quite so forceful of a manner. Over a cup of coffee and some homemade biscuits, she listened to all my reasons “why not” and offered a few “why I should” that I could not ignore, but I did for the moment.
The whole next year I reflected on the experience of leading that Easter service; it changed me irreparably. We gathered again for the next three years doing the same, but the next year was pivotal for me.
The planning, the golf tournament, and everything moved along much as that first Easter sunrise service had. But, God worked on me in an unexpected way throughout that year. As much as I tried to sluff off a sense of call to ministry I could not. Finally, just days after Easter that second year, I took my incredible wife to dinner for her birthday.
As she and I enjoyed our dinner and relished each other’s company I shared with her the feeling that I had about what our pastor had said, about what Mamaw’s pastor had said, and the experience of leading that service. I explained to her that as much as I want to ignore this that I no longer feel like I can, and I need to take it more seriously. Bottom line, I believe I need to explore going to seminary. But, I also want to explore going back in the Navy as a chaplain.
Her response to me was more confirmation than just about anything I could have ever asked for. She explained that she had known for years that this day would come, and she was planning for it. She said that over the previous several years that she had been doing different things with our family finances to put us in a better position for this day, and that she was ready to take that leap of faith with me.
Now, one bit of truth in this situation was that when I finally told her that I planned to explore this whole thing more and consider going to seminary her heart did momentarily stop. He thoughts went to, “Oh my God. I’m going to be a pastor’s wife.” She really did not like that idea at all. Then, when I mentioned that I would also be exploring going back in the Navy as a chaplain she breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, good. I can be an officer’s wife; that’s much better.”
Within a few months all of my essays were written and my applications were sent off. It was scary, but the right move for me to make.
As I reflect back on this entire episode in my life I can’t help but notice how life came from death. In many ways, it was my grandmother’s death, or her approaching death, that motivated me to move forward in this unique calling I have found myself in. Her death was painful, but I doubt that I would have made the same decisions had that tragedy not occurred in our family. I doubt that I would have gone down this path had I not enjoyed the loving relationship that I have with my family. This family, filled with so much faith, hope, and love has propelled me into places I would never have dreamed of.
Just over two years following Mamaw’s death I left my career as an engineer and found myself sitting in a classroom in seminary. In many ways I was still in denial that this could ever work, but in an effort to humor God and others I would at least give it a try. But, make no mistake about it; I do still keep my toolbox around just in case this whole chaplain thing doesn’t work out.
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