Mercy and Grace...

I had a chance to see something beautiful tonight. Or rather, several beautiful things. Today is Good Friday. I've always found that name so strange - since it marks the death of Jesus on a cross - a cruel, senseless death. But, it truly was, and is, a good Friday - for things do not come from nothing.

Jesus' resurrection could not have taken place if it weren't for his death. Plain and simple. It seems clear that this was the only way we could receive such a gift - though many may argue that it need not have been so gruesome.

I said earlier that I saw beautiful things today. Perhaps a better way of putting it would have been that I was made aware of the beauty of things tonight. As I sat tonight in our Good Friday service, I was in awe. I left my apartment thinking that I was already getting churched out with holy week, and by the time the choir had sung the first song of their contata, my attitude had changed. I listened to the music, heard the words of the passion story read, saw the candles going out one by one as the moment of Christ's death came closer in the reading...and found myself close to tears a few times. I saw the beauty in the way the choir sang, saw a mother brushing the hair out of her child's face, saw the beauty of a conversation with a friend. And even after the service was over, people just seemed to be very at ease - smiles and conversations were seen everywhere. And when I finally left the church...even then I found myself thinking back to different parts of the service - and of the drama I was able to witness the evening before - a last supper drama put on by men from our church - a first time shot that drew a crowd of over 700.

I catch myself thinking sometimes that I wonder if things like Easter, Lent, even Christmas at church will lose their meaning as I see them more and more. After all, within reason of course, things are the same every year - we always have a candlelight service at Christmastime. We always have a Sunrise Service on Easter. We always strip the altar on Maundy Thursday. Things like that - and yet, I feel like I would feel lost without their presence. That is because our attitudes and outlook change every year, and we see each thing with different experiences under our belts.

I have found myself in the last few years trying to go into situations like that and listening for something I haven't heard before, or paying attention to the way I feel when different things are done. I notice things I haven't noticed, and I come away with a new and deeper understanding of what is present within each piece.

Tonight's service ended when the choir sang their last song, the last candle had been extinguished, and all the lights in the church had been turned off. But, it was just before 7:30, the sun had not yet set, and sunlight was streaming through the windows, illuminating the "dark" sanctuary. For a moment, I kept hoping that at the moment that the last light was turned out, the sun would sneak behind a cloud and we would all be shrouded in darkness. However, after a moment, I came to a different understanding - it was almost as if the sun was there to say that some lights cannot be extinguished - and that even - or perhaps especially - in the moment of Christ's death, he was still present.

The light shines on.

And the darkness cannot overcome it.

That is all.

And that is everything.