I come from a generation for whom Easter was a high point in our church calendar. Not for us only a single service - no! Good Friday was a day for somber (not sad!) contemplation of the Savior's journey to the cross as we gathered round the communion table on our knees. My dad would tell the story of Jesus again, opening the Word to us with the fervor of lovel and we worshipped till it felt as though we too were standing at the foot of that rugged tree, looking up into His suffering face. We heard the mocking throng, and we wept with the disciples in their grief.

Saturday, we would gather again, loving the extra fellowship with our church family and all the special music the choir had been rehearsing for months. Joy was in air - Sunday was coming!

Before dawn on Easter Sunday we met on a hill overlooking the city and as the sun gilded the horizon, a lone trumpet led the way as we broke into the wonderful hymn "Up from the grave He arose!" I remember too that one year we had some very angry fellow christians come to warn us that we were pagans, deserving of divine judgment for worshipping the sun!

If only they had taken the time to share in the unbridled joy of a happy band of disciples who knew how to celebrate this glorious assurance - "He is not here. He is risen!"

Easter is only a few weeks away. In spite of what is going on in this old world, I have planted a seed of joy and can't wait to see what flowers on Resurrection Sunday!