What Time Was It?

What time was it when Jesus rose from the dead?

I considered that question this morning when we rose (so early!) to be at the 4 a.m. Easter sunrise service.  Framed in by empty streets, about 80 of us gathered outside the Dondo Baptist church in the serene African morning with the moon as our only light. 

With the sandy loam under our feet we danced and sang in Sena and Portuguese praise songs to a risen King. I listened as Pastor Jeronimo reminded us that it was the women that went to the empty tomb first and a woman to whom Jesus first appeared. Was it because it was a woman who first took the forbidden fruit?  

How did you feel Eve when you heard of this glorious resurrection?

I know what time it was when Jesus rose from the dead.  It was the perfect time.  The time to heal our broken worlds.  Our African world infused with disease, poverty, hopelessness and death.   Our American world cluttered with apathy, affluence, autonomy and also death. 

The sun poured its light through the palm branches with the closing prayer. Just in time because the streets of Dondo began stirring with their usual pace.  I thought it was good this morning to be at this very early Easter sunrise service.  For it is never too early to take the hope of a risen life to a dying world.