Throughout Christendom tomorrow morning will be glorious.
Fundamental Baptists everywhere will gather at their picnic shelters for the annual sunrise service. Having lived in East Tennessee, I can assure you that any time a fundamental Baptist congregation is birthed, the picnic shelter is built before the church is. I am not sure of the doctrine cited but they're that serious about their picnic shelters.
Across town somewhere at much younger churches, the Sultans of Relevance will see the fruits of their mass marketing campaigns, as the seats fill. After all, this is Super Bowl Sunday for church planters. Easter is to church planters what Christmas is to retailers. Make it or break it. That's an insane amount of pressure for one Sunday or one person. God bless them.
A hundred different camps will celebrate Easter tomorrow, but tonight, it's not quite Easter yet. In fact, it's pretty dark at our house.
We have sick kids. Grayson has been sick to one degree or another for 2+ weeks. He spent the first 8 days laying on the couch, moving every other day to take a bath (and often falling asleep in the tub). Last week he felt a little better, but still complained every day. Tonight he was moaning on the couch about his stomach hurting.
Jackson went to his 4pm prayer set this afternoon and called for a ride around 5:30pm. He'd already barfed. He came home and laid in bed for a while, then staggered up the stairs literally in delirium, mumbling and nearly passing out at the kitchen counter.
We've dragged their mattresses to the living room and have declared their beds the North Ward and the South Ward.
So. Easter is coming. Resurrection. New life.
Even so, come quickly.