I attend a twelve-step recovery meeting at a small Lutheran church every morning at 7 ; have done so for the last two-and-a-half years. At Christmas, they held a Christmas Eve carol service, complete with wobbly voiced singers; I went in December and it was the most wonderful part of a really very wonderful holiday season for me. So last month, when banners appeared above the church door inviting one and all to an Easter "sunrise service," I promised myself that I would attend.
It was worth getting up at o'dark-hundred and shivering in my too-thin sweater in the desert morning to sit among a handful of other worshippers and hear the Easter message of "why do you look for the living among the dead?" that was spoken by the angels to Jesus's female disciples who had come to anoint his body on the third day.
Because I realized that like Christ, I, too, was dead, and now I am alive. And God did this thing.
And I realized that just last week, I meditated on the Passover message, as well, and realized then that like the Israelites, I was a slave, and now I am free. And God did this as well.
Two powerful messages, that I have heard for all of my 57 years, without "getting," until twelve-step recovery:
I was a slave, and now I'm free.
I was dead, and now I'm alive.
And God did these things for me.