All the Sunrises We Cannot See

“It’s raining. Do you really still want to go?” I asked my husband as I made a quick cup of coffee and pulled my socks on. 

He turned, his optimistic smile ever present, lifted the umbrella in his hand and nodded.

It was dark and early on Easter morning.  We were gathering our things to meet a group of friends at a nearby bridge to sing hymns as the sun rose. It sounded picturesque and I’d been looking forward to it all week. But Easter came and the morning was cold and rainy. My enthusiasm died and I wanted to stay in my warm bed. 

Half an hour later, we were standing huddled amongst our friends in rain jackets under an assortment of umbrellas singing hymns. We stood facing the direction of the sunrise as we sang one song after the other. Eventually, someone said, “I think the sun rose.” That was the extent. Clouds covered the sky, rain came down, and no sunrise could be seen, but indeed, somewhere above that storm, the sun was in its rightful place. 

As we drove home I realized how very much like this sunrise life can sometimes feel. I can’t see Jesus sitting on His throne. I can’t see the eradication of pain and suffering. I can’t find the answers to the questions that keep me up at night. But, I sing on, because I know they are there even when I cannot see them. 

“You know, there’s something about singing when it feels the silliest.” I told my husband on our drive home. He smiled. “You’re right.”

Maybe this Easter you couldn’t see the sunrise either. Maybe you were tempted to despair rather than praise. Maybe you sat in the pew with an armful of questions and left with no answers. Maybe you couldn’t sing without the knot forming in your throat and the tears threatening your eyes. Maybe you couldn’t make it to the pew at all. 

I want you to know, you aren’t alone. The best news about Easter transcends us. Our feelings, our questions, our pain, and our longings don’t change what happened in that tomb over two thousand years ago.

Isn’t that the best news?

Somewhere above this storm, the Son is in His rightful place.