As we started our Easter Vigil, we did it outside with the lighting of the new fire. It got a little exciting… maybe a bit too… at least for my tastes. The flames finally died down, and no harm was done and I sort of lit the paschal candle. The wind was just too strong which had in part led to the excitement I talked about above. So we walked to the entryway and lit the candle with a lighter.
We didn’t start in awed silence; it was more like nervious chuckles. But as we lit our candles and walked into the dark nave all was still, early signs of Easter were there, but covered and hidden in the darkness.
Silence can be a burden when your hopes and dreams come tumbling down. But that same silence can be a blessing when you have hope. On this side of Easter, even as we await in darkened silence, we can wait wrapped in the sadness of Good Friday, but we yet have the joy of Easter bubbling just beneath the surface. This is a great Lutheran both-and, which is why I think I have grown to love this night so much.
In the silent moments of your life, when all seems lost and broken, know that after the sun set, there comes a Son rise.