Happy Easter!

This past Easter Triduum was packed.

First, I went to my Catholic church for the Maundy Thursday service. Toward the end of the long service, they washed the feet of several sets of fathers and sons, and one woman. It was the first time I'd seen a foot-washing in a church service. Not counting the goofy boyfriend who was kidding around after a long dirty hike, the only time I ever had my feet ceremonially washed was by my Catholic religion teacher at my senior retreat in high school. We'd been fighting back and forth for weeks (he was young and cocky and I thought he was pathetic), so the Campus Ministry staff made him end the war by serving me that way. It worked. Peace reigned.

Watching the footwashing in the Catholic service nearly moved me to tears. There's something very poignant about that kind of commitment to serving and honoring the Lord's example, in a way that is specifically, intentionally planned-for and displayed, and made a family bonding thing as well. I wish I saw this being done in a more regular way.

Friday morning I drove to the City, and with a friend, attended one of St. Dominic's mornings of Tenebrae. This is a long-standing tradition of mine since college, thanks to my friend Lisa. St. Dominic's church has a great music program, and for Tenebrae they chant through the suffering servant songs from the prophets and the Psalms. It's beautiful, it's haunting, it's a way to get up early and ponder what Jesus went through, rejected, alone, fearful and in pain. "He was a man of sorrows, familiar with suffering..."

Friday night was Good Friday service at my own church. We have a liturgy we've followed the last several years. I sang for it the past two years, and it was nice to just be a spectator this time. It gave me more space to think. One thing that struck me, as I watched a few hundred people walk across the stage, dropping their cross nails in a box (symbolizing our guilt that Christ bore in our place) and receiving communion, was that I knew all kinds of crud about so many of the people. Failings, messed up marriages, weird personalities, hurt kids. You learn these things when you're in one church your entire life. The sense of watching a flood of unworthy people and broken lives crossing that stage was really overwhelming and depressing. And at the same time it was profoundly sweet to be able to grasp in the same moment that we are all totally unworthy, unlovable, and have disqualified ourselves from Heaven - but that's the basis on which we are accepted and forgiven by God. Nothing coming from ourselves - salvation is by grace, a gift.

As I walked up to the stage myself, I thought about Billy Graham's line from a crusade sermon in San Francisco 20 or 30 years ago. "This is your moment with God." In that moment I felt some of the terror of judgment and wanting desperately to repent before I put a foot on that stage. And yet I know that I'm already forgiven for all the faithlessness and sin in my life. It's a great relief.

Saturday afternoon I went to Confession at the Catholic church. I was feeling like the biggest worm, so self-centered and messed up and relationally doomed. I was all set for self-flagellation when I went in that confessional - and utterly relieved to see my favorite old priest in there. I gave him my spiel, and he looked at me and said with real caring, "This doesn't sound like you. Is something else going wrong?" He doesn't know me well - he's just a wise, discerning priest, and I nearly cried at the unexpected mercy and concern. When I told him what was piling up the stress, he simply advised me to continue praying a prayer of trust in Jesus, and to ask Mary to take care of me. And then, dispensing with convention that doesn't allow him to absolve non-Catholics of sin, he absolved me. He's not the first godly priest who has done that for me, and I was moved by his grace. Looking back on that now, I think he knew better than I did that I really needed that absolution.

That night I attended Easter Vigil at the same Catholic church. Starting with the lighting of the fire in the dark outside, then processing into the darkened church, then lighting all our candles in our hands as we began the early readings and prayers, I felt the wonder of entering in to the ages of tradition in marking this holiest of Christian days. I sat with one of the older women whom I pray with there on a regular basis. It's a precious thing to realize that simply by showing up a lot to pray or sit in Mass, I've been gradually drawn into this little community of Catholics who love Jesus and have lovingly welcomed me without much of a word. One woman introduced me to another saying, "I don't know her name, but I know she's always there to pray at 11 on Monday night!" And then she was shocked to hear that I was an Evangelical. :)

I don't know... part of me kept saying, "Next year. Next year I'll join the Church." I don't know if that's sappy sentimentalism or if it's really the plan God has in mind, and I'm still insistent on being fully part of both my Evangelical and Catholic communities. But my understanding of the theology has continued to grow and I have always known the Lord can do whatever He wants with this. A couple of my closer friends have said that they are convinced the Lord will bring me in to the Catholic church. I am content to let Him do that in His own most significant way.

Sunday morning, however, I was as Evangelical as they come. I was singing for my church and at rehearsal on Saturday, James had pulled out this amazing new song. I was hooked immediately just beside myself with anticipation. But we didn't really arrange the vocals for it.

As I drove around listening to the CD of this song in my car, I was inspired with an interpretation in a vocal arrangement for it, and then frantically called James that night to run it by him. He wasn't home. So I emailed the idea to him, hoping he wouldn't think I was nuts, because the song was a big, rock kind of style and I was hyping it up with a lot of drama, mixed solos, duets and stuff.

Well, he liked it, and we ka-powed this beautiful, powerful song as the pivot of the whole service, right in the middle before the sermon. I prayed that highlighting the lyrics with the different solos and duets would draw the congregation in to the drama of the Resurrection and all that it means to us, and we pulled it off. I've been dreaming for years of getting to present a really intense, driving Resurrection song, singing my brains out as if to say to the church, "Wake up, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you!" And I finally got to do it. It was the most ripping solo I've ever had (so much that the loud ringing of my voice in the church sort of scared me), and I got to promote other singers and make it a big team effort. It was everything I'd ever wanted, with two trumpets, two strings right behind me, driving drums, pounding bass, wonderful piano and guitar... at one point Sue's voice just rang out through the monitor as she sang her duet with me, and I looked back and caught her eye as we shared a look that was pure "NAILED IT!" We all sang the song again as a postlude too, so we got six rounds of it in three services, and it was such intoxicating joy every time.

I didn't sing flawlessly, but it was strong, so joyously perfect for the triumph of Easter, and the profound lyrical message got through. It was such a delight that I couldn't stop singing the song in the car afterward - over and over and over as I drove the hour home from my parents' last night. My throat is completely raw today. But I don't care. When I get back in the car today, I'll sing it again. And again. And again.

And I highly recommend downloading this from iTunes. There are 7 Sundays in the official Easter season of the Church calendar, so let 'er rip. We're not fasting for Lent anymore - let's feast on the joy of this time!

"See the Morning" ~ Stuart Townend and Keith Getty, 2003

See, what a morning, gloriously bright
With the dawning of hope in Jerusalem
Folded the graveclothes, tomb filled with light
As the angels announce Christ is risen

See God's salvation plan
- Wrought in love, borne in pain, paid in sacrifice -
Fulfilled in Christ the Man
For He lives, Christ is risen from the dead!

See Mary weeping, where is He laid
As in sorrow she turns from the empty tomb
Hears a Voice speaking, calling her name
It's the Master, the Lord, raised to life again!

The Voice that spans the years
Speaking life, stirring hope, bringing peace to us
Will sound till He appears
For He lives, Christ is risen from the dead!

One with the Father, Ancient of Days
Through the Spirit who clothes faith with certainty
Glory and blessing, honor and praise
To the King, crowned with power and authority

And we are raised with Him,
Death is dead, love has won, Christ has conquered!
And we shall reign with Him,
For He lives, Christ is risen from the dead!