This morning, at 6:10, I pulled my sleepy body out of bed. In the pre-dawn dark I somehow managed to get dressed without awakening my slumbering roommates. I shuffled out of my dorm and began to walk towards the gazebo. A faint orange tinged the sky, and the chilly air awoke me further. I picked up the pace.
I didn’t want to miss the sunrise.
I needn’t have worried. I got to the gazebo in plenty of time, and nestled down into my winter coat–chosen because I would rather look wimpy and unable to handle cold, instead of dealing with questions about why I was carrying a down quilt around campus.
A foolish concern.
The campus was still–or rather, the people on campus were still. The campus–the grounds and birds and geese (not redundant) and fish and insects were not still. Everything seemed–almost frantic. Waiting. Anticipating. Antsy.
The fish would peep out of the water at least twice a minute–is it time yet? The geese honked frantically, until, unable to bear the wait, they took wing into the east. Flying towards the approaching sun. The myriad songbirds chattered and whistled and darted and trilled and wove in and out of the black trees as the sky grew pink. Everything seemed as if it was leaning towards the east with impatience. The very grass underfoot appeared to yearn towards it.
I, too, leaned forward. I had been intending to read my Bible–perhaps sing a few hymns–but the notes died on my lips and I could do nothing, only wait, wait, wait, for the coming dawn. I was unable to tear my eyes from the horizon, afraid that I would miss it.
It was not a sudden instant–I could not say, “This is the moment the sun rose; not before and certainly not after.” I was simply watching, and waiting, and all of a sudden I realized that the sun was up, and the light surrounded me. The light had been growing, and gathering, and lightening, if you can apply that word to light. The very air seemed to shine white.
Was it thus the morning my Lord rose? Unnoticed until it had happened? Anticipated in ignorance? Did the very dumb creatures try to warn the disciples?
And then all at once the sun had risen, and there was light, and joy, and hope.
I walked back to the dorm, just short of dancing, and adorned myself to go to church.
He is risen!
Nota Bene: I refrained from making the cliched sun/Son reference. The implication was unintentional. Perhaps, though, there is a reason it is a cliche? To be pondered later, if I remember.