Last Easter was dark, literally. During holy week, an ice storm struck my city and plunged hundreds of households into darkness, as power lines collapsed under the weight of freezing rain. Thankfully, my neighborhood remained unaffected by the storm. However, many within my church community were not as fortunate. The storm’s impact extended to the church building as well. And the lack of light and warmth forced us to cancel our Good Friday service, leaving our sanctuary empty and silent.
Reflecting on those dark days, my pastor described them as one of the bleakest moments he had ever known. Without light emanating from stars and streetlamps, his district was shrouded in an eerie, impenetrable darkness.
As I listened to my pastor’s account of that moment of darkness, it stirred memories of a similar experience I had fifteen years ago. A solar eclipse was approaching, and we were expecting a blackout in the city where I lived. I vividly recalled witnessing, for the first time, the moon obscuring the sun until darkness descended and covered the land.
Instances of such unexpected darkness permeate history, with each occurrence leaving its mark on those who experienced it. Yet none is as profound as the darkness that enveloped the world two thousand years ago when the Son of God hung on a cross. There was darkness from noon until 3 p.m. on that fateful Friday when the sun should have been at its peak. Unlike the darkness from the eclipse or ice storm I experienced, this darkness defied natural explanation. Scripture simply states that the sun’s light failed.
The supernatural darkness lifted when Jesus bowed his head and died. Yet darkness still loomed over the disciples on that silent Saturday. As the Messiah lay lifeless and buried, their last flicker of hope faded, for they had not yet grasped the Scriptures that foretold his resurrection.
But dark times are fleeting, and after darkness, light.
On the first day of the week, at daybreak, the tomb’s stone was rolled away, and the Light of the world returned! Thanks to Jesus’ triumph over death and darkness, we, too, can overcome darkness. Colossians 1:13-14 says, “He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” And 1 Peter 2:9 says he “called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”
The resurrection of Jesus Christ symbolizes not only God’s grace and mercy on sinners but also a promise that even in our darkest moments, there is always a glimmer of hope, and light is never distant. Just as we eagerly awaited the return of light after that solar eclipse fifteen years ago and that ice storm last year, so too can we eagerly anticipate the return of light after our darkest times. As Psalm 30:5 assures us, “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” This is the hope that Easter brings, the assurance that light will always follow darkness.
As we embrace and celebrate Pascha today, let us hold fast to the unshakable hope we have in Christ’s resurrection. Even when we walk through our valley of shadows, we can be reassured that light awaits us at the end. Because Christ has risen, we can have strength for our darkest hours today and radiant hope for tomorrow. This is the promise of Easter: we are never alone in our darkness, and light will always prevail.
Blessed Resurrection Sunday!
