As any sleep-forsaking group of church-lovers would do… we stuck around for the first of their two normal Easter Sunday services. Well, 5 of us stuck around. Our other visitors from the night watch (a total of about 7 additional people) decided not to embrace insanity and went home to sleep.

Because it was Easter, the church was quite crowded. And Richard and I were a little slow in making it back to the room. (A small group of us had followed Mother Anne back to her office where she invited us to share a baked treat that someone had brought her.) When we sat down, we realized that our little space on the pew was rather crowded. So Richard decided we should just go for it… we sat in the very first row (which, big shock, was still WIDE open).

I actually really enjoyed the experience from the first row. Primary reason? The tulips. The front row allowed for much easier viewing and appreciation of what I think just may be God’s most beautiful flower. Just a few feet in front of us is where the tulips and easter lilies were generously spread in celebration of Jesus’ resurrection.

I also enjoyed the experience of really being up in there and a part of everything that was happening. It was really cool. (And it was perhaps the first time that I would have actually been comfortable with being so near all of the people who actually knew what was going on the whole time.) But… I mostly just stared at the flowers… thanking Jesus for the gift of their presence that Easter morning.

I think there was a huge grin on my face through about 95% of this entire service. I was just happy… inexplicably happy. (Even the growing ache in my face, from excessive happy-facing, did not dim my elation.)

The biggest highlight of the whole service took place near the beginning. We actually sang the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah. (What a beautiful piece of music!) Of course… I didn’t sing much of it. I just stood there with my eyes closed and a huge smile on my face, enjoying God and enjoying His people.

We also sang “Jesus Christ is Risen Today” in both services. I was singing it all day on Easter Sunday and the thing is still stuck in my head! Praise the Lord… He is risen indeed.

Another highlight of Easter Sunday – trumpets. I enjoyed them… when I wasn’t singing. (They were great during the musical pieces when no one was singing… and I even thought they were a nice touch during the hallelujah chorus. But a few wrong notes and my general distaste for trumpets made them really throw me off the rest of the time. But I still had that crazy joyful smile plastered on my face. Even trumpets couldn’t take the joy of Easter Sunday away from me.)

All of Sunday morning was amazing. Until the final fulfillment of all God’s promises… until the trumpet (which I’m sure I’ll appreciate) sounds and the whole church gathers together to meet Him in the sky, I don’t know if any church experience will ever quite compare to the celebration of Easter. (But, by all means, Lord… bring it on! Surprise me!)

Oh what a beautiful day that will be. He is, after all, only the firstborn from the dead. That’s what makes all of this so exciting. Praise the Lord!

Wow. Wow, wow, wow.

I have to say that the Easter Sunday services were the most incredible church experience I have ever had. By the time we left, my face actually hurt from smiling so much.

The first service we attended was the 6:30 sunrise service… the Easter Vigil. The service began in darkness with the lighting of the Paschal candle. They brought the candle in with the proclamation of “The light of Christ” and we all lit our own little candles from this same fire.

My first experience with the little candles was the Christmas Eve Service. Those little guys sure do give off a lot of heat! I learned my lesson and made a point of holding the candle a good distance from my face this time. (I am proud to say that it made quite a difference. No sweat emanating from my pores, this time!)

Mother Anne gave the sermon during that service. And her message was PHENOMENAL. Seriously. As she spoke, it felt like she has been reading parts of my journal. It’s one of the best messages I have heard in a long time.

Two children were baptized and received into the community at the Easter Vigil. I have to admit that these baptisms did not move me as profoundly as other baptism services that I have attended. There’s something about the picture that is presented by watching someone go under the water and then rise again into life in Christ. Still, there was something that was really cool about the way we all participated with them, as a community. How we joined them in renewing our baptismal vows (which pretty much boils down to reciting the creed, in chunks, and answering a handful of questions with “I will, with God’s help.”) How we welcomed them into the community of believers, exhorting them to join us in the life of hope and obedience and committing to stand with them. “Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support these persons in their life in Christ? — We will.”

After the baptisms, the clergy even sprinkled the entire congregation with holy water as they left the building. I was conveniently (or not so conveniently) located in the aisle seat, so I got good and wet. No matter how much you brace yourself for something like that, there’s no way to really be prepared for a sudden shower of water, making a swift, horizontal journey to your face.

A few seconds after this, Christina (who was sitting beside me) lost all ability to contain her laughter. Unfortunately, I was not very helpful in this matter. She had to sit down twice and try to pull herself together. It was quite amusing.

The second half of the service began with “Alleluia, the Lord is risen,” and the response, “The Lord is risen indeed, alleluia.” And then… the “Holy Noise.”

I have to admit that the Holy Noise caught me a little off guard… but it swept me into ecstatic reality. I was struck with how profound that moment in history was… the moment that we were all gathered to remember and celebrate. The in-breaking of the age to come… the initial glow of the dawning new day, the day whose light we look to and whose fullness we await. When the firstborn from the dead rose again to life, demonstrating the power of God, the power of the resurrection… the power that is available for us and will be fully exercised in us when we are raised to new life with Him. The assurance of our hope. God’s yes to the groans of His anguishing creation.

The whole service was so beautiful. The irregular elements that marked our Easter celebration and the standard components of a regular service alike.

Oh… and I got my tulips. The whole front of the church was beautifully decorated with fresh Easter lilies and tulips. It was wonderful! (I don’t think I have ever become so engaged in looking around and taking everything in when approaching the altar rail to receive communion. It was almost too much. I loved it! All of those delicate little tulips… brought in to participate in the celebration of Jesus’ victory over the powers of death.)

By the time the service ended, the sun had fully risen. What a transition, from darkness into light.

I don’t really have time to write much about Good Friday, but it seemed like I should at least get something in before Easter (although it is technically Sunday already).

The service on Friday was amazing.

I knew they would be wearing all black. I didn’t expect it to impact me at all. It’s just a different color. I was wrong.

They looked so plain and bare and mournful. Just like the stripped altar at the front of the room. Plain… bare… empty… lacking. I guess I never consciously thought about it, but they usually come out in white or beautiful, bright colors. I had never seen these people stand at the front of the room with no ornamentation… in simple, dull black. There was such an evident absence… such a clear lack.

I knew that they would prostrate themselves once they reached the front of the room. I honestly expected it to feel a little cheesy. I expected to be somewhat amused, whilst yelling at myself internally for being so irreverent. I was wrong.

The moment was so somber. There was no processional music, as in a normal service. They simply entered in silence as we knelt between the pews. When they fell on their faces at the front of the room, my heart turned over within me. As they lingered there in that posture, the sobriety deepened.

The whole service was amazing. Tears kept welling up in my eyes and escaping in little streams down my face. My heart was so violently active. It was so sensitive to the constant stimuli that would not leave it in peace. The songs that we sang. The passion reading. The scripture readings. (The book of Hebrews is always sure to do something to my heart.) The entrance of the cross into the room.

I had spent much of the previous night in Psalm 22. As the congregation read through the first half of Psalm 22, my heart could hardly be contained within my chest. The depth of the impact of these words was immeasurable.

Most of the rest of my time through the Maundy Thursday vigil the night before had been spent in Exodus. The Lord had moved my heart with His patience and compassion on the people of Israel. How faithful He was to them… how undeservedly kind He was to them. And then all of those things from Exodus came and struck a blow at me that I had never anticipated…

Oh my people, what have I done unto thee? Or wherein have I wearied thee? Testify against me.

Because I brought thee forth from the land of Egypt: Thou hast prepared a Cross for thy Savior. …

Because I led thee through the desert for forty years, and fed thee with manna, and brought thee into a land exceedingly good: Thou hast prepared a Cross for thy Savior. …

I indeed did plant thee, O my vineyard, with exceeding fair fruit: And thou art become very bitter unto me. …

I did scourge Egypt with her first born for thy sake: And thou hast scourged me and delivered me up. I led thee forth out of Egypt, drowning Pharaoh in the Red Sea: And thou hast delivered me up unto the chief priests. …

I did open the sea before thee: And thou has opened my side with a spear. I did go before thee in a pillar of cloud: And thou hast led me unto the judgment hall of Pilate. …

I did feed thee with manna in the desert: And thou hast stricken me with blows and scourges. I did give thee to drink the water of life from the rock: And thou hast given me to drink but gall and vinegar. …

I did give thee a royal scepter: And thou hast given unto my head a crown of thorns. I did raise thee on high with great power: And thou hast hanged me upon the gibbet of the Cross.

Oh my people, what have I done unto thee? Or wherein have I wearied thee? Testify against me.

(Snippets taken from the Good Friday Liturgy.)

And he chose it. He went willingly. The Son offered Himself up. The Father betrayed the Son unto death. For us and for our salvation. This exceedingly merciful, kind, patient, and compassionate God. This one who had shown nothing but goodness to us came and, willfully, was met with reproach. ABOUNDING IN STEADFAST LOVE!!! He was betrayed by us and suffered for us. He saw fit to come and have compassion on us. He saw fit to come and deliver us from bondage. He died, at our hands, that He might overcome death. For us and for our salvation.

What kind of God is this? What kind of King is this?

Even communion was altered according to the attitude of the evening. The cushions on which we usually knelt were gone. Just a cold, hard ledge and a wooden rail. It was as uncomfortable as the words we spoke and sang all evening.

We ended by reading a prayer aloud and then left in silence.

The silence created a space where this phrase from the prayer just hung in my mind: “And [give] to us sinners everlasting life and glory…”

What kind of God is this?

With all that is within me, I do love and adore Him.

As we left tonight, the officer who was watching the church said these words to Richard: “I was about to say… Aren’t you forgetting something?”

And this is why:

The story begins with my first real need for a restroom. I had needed to go for a while, but I was so into what I was reading (in Exodus) that I kept telling myself I could hold it just a bit longer. So, by the time I got up… I REALLY had to go.

I started wandering in that direction… that direction being the OPPOSITE CORNER of the building. The women’s restroom (at least the one I know about), is pretty much as far away as it could possibly be, while remaining on that floor and actually within the building.

Well… it was the middle of the night (actually, it was only about 11 PM) and the church was mostly empty… so there wasn’t much light out in that direction. This shouldn’t have been a big issue for the vigil. Most people would only be coming for an hour. Surely they wouldn’t develop a desperate need for the restroom in that time. But I… well… I drink and pee a lot. It’s as simple as that. Making it until 11 PM is actually pretty good, when you take that into consideration.

As I wander down the dark hall I realize, “Hmmm… stairs… that could be interesting.” (There are about 5 stairs that lead up to the part of that back hall, where the restrooms are tucked away. So, I turn around, thinking, “Maybe the officer will know of a closer restroom.” Umm… yeah… that was a brilliant lead. OK, so I knew my chances were slim. but I thought the fresh air might be nice, too.

On my way out of the room, I had noticed that I DIDN’T notice Richard anywhere. He seemed to be absent. There were all sorts of great potential explanations for that… so I didn’t get too worried. Surely he wouldn’t leave me… right?

So, I get outside, and the guy is like, “Umm… did you walk here? It’s just my car and one other in the parking lot right now.” (And, he had obviously just seen the people who got out of that ONE car a few minutes earlier. I was not one of them.)

So that’s why I didn’t see Richard!

My response: “Umm… no… but that explains why I didn’t see my ride home as I was leaving the room. He was in the black car that was parked over there…”

So, we had the, “I’m sure he’s coming back” conversation, but I decided that it would be a good idea to get my phone, anyway. And… I was experiencing hunger. The hunger wasn’t too intense, but a sudden flash of boredom had just hit me, and going to get food or something sounded really appealing. As I explained in the last post, getting up to use the restroom had suddenly made me NOT want to go back into the room. (Which is sad, as I had really been enjoying it prior to finally giving in and getting up to empty the ol’ bladder.)

The phone rang a few times (just enough to make me go, Ummmm….) and then he answered (sigh of relief). “Hey, where are you?”

Apparently, he had gone to get a drink. (“A drink” being a Rockstar… oh, Richard.) That was good… because he probably would have somehow been in trouble (as I had informed the officer) if we went to get food and didn’t grab me. Of course, that was just because I suddenly wanted to get food… because standing and moving around felt really good… and I had so quickly forgotten how great it was in the room.

Richard actually pulled back in to the parking lot while we were still on the phone. We briefly discussed the hunger thing and then the pressure in my bladder kind of chimed in and I decided to use the light of my phone to venture through the dark halls. When I returned from peeing (and DIDN’T die on my way back down the stairs… which was quite a feat, let me tell you… I had just come out of the blinding light of the bathroom into a very dark hall)… I decided to go stare at the sign-up board for the vigil.

This (staring at the board) is actually something that I felt the need to do pretty much every time I left to use the restroom. It was that resistance to sitting back down just yet. I even did this sometimes when the fact that I was totally parched would send me out to the fountain, which was only a few yards away from the door to the back of the chapel… which was mere feet away from where I was sitting. Yes, a little sad. You would think that I had that board memorized by now.

Well, on that first trip to the board (and staring fun!), I was, as I said, sadly resistant to returning to that place of silent prayer. (Yeah, Jesus… I guess that watch with you think is harder than I realized. Praise the Lord, I never fell asleep, though.) So… I did something relatively juvenile. (I was just killing time, really.) In the second slot next to Richard’s name, he had written “Friends from IHOP.” Well, I was the only “friend from ihop” who stuck around… so I crossed out the S’s in the two times that he had written this. (10PM and 1AM were the only times that other people hadn’t also signed up for in the middle of the night.) As this didn’t take much time (and I needed to take more time), I ended up writing, “i.e. Christine Wasinger” beside this, as well. Yes… so mature.

As I was writing this, a woman who had also been there for the last 2.5-3 hours came up to me and started talking about IHOP (seeing the “Friendsfrom IHOP” thing). I love to talk about IHOP. And then she said something about how great the bookstore is. I love to talk about the bookstore. She was actually quite excited to learn that I worked there. Richard, who had been talking to her earlier, joined back in to the conversation.

And then he asked if I was still hungry. I told him I was… but that it was actually probably more of a boredom thing than a hunger thing. So he said, “If it’s just boredom, I’m going to go back into the room.” So I said, “Yeah… you probably should.” and started heading back in that direction, myself. I think that my alterations to the board had made me realize what I was doing. And I started to remember how good the last three hours had been. I probably just needed to get back in there and press through it.

And I did. And it was great. And I had several quick (but longer than necessary) bathroom breaks after that.

But back to the beginning of the blog. When we finally left that night, Richard simply walked toward where I was sitting and, when I saw him, nodded toward the door. So I was a few seconds behind him, by the time I got my stuff (umm… my Bible and purse) together. The delay was just long enough that it made the security guard remember the first time Richard had left me. (Well… he didn’t REALLY leave me.)

And that’s why he said it, as I walked through the door: “I was about to say… Aren’t you forgetting something?”

I was at church (St. Andrew’s Episcopal church) from about 5:15 PM to 3:15 AM tonight. Ten hours. Ten of them.

Overall feeling about the evening: I love holy week!!!

Today was Maundy Thursday. A day that sounds like three different days of the week, if you’re really a nerd about it. (Maundy sounds like Monday. There was a Seder… and Seder Day clearly sounds like Saturday. And, of course… we have Thursday. Which sounds remarkably like… Thursday.)

The evening of much churchness kicked off with a Seder. I had never been to a Seder before. Talk about some interesting tastes. Mmm… bitter herbs. The dinner they served was really good, though. You should ask Aaron Swanger about the french toast carrots and the trident lamb. Speaking of lamb… I really love lamb.

After the Seder, we headed upstairs for the Maundy Thursday liturgy. Unlike the Palm Sunday service, tonight’s liturgy was back to the three-books-and-a-piece-of-paper juggling game. When they don’t kill 50 trees to put everything in the program for each service, it’s a little tricky to keep up. (Of course, I usually just skip the Bible for the scripture readings. They are, in fact, READING said scriptures out loud, so there isn’t much point to my staring at the words as they go along. Especially since I only have two hands … and three other very important materials to navigate.)

They put a little music and a general outline of the service on the program, giving page numbers for everything that you will need to turn to in the book of common prayer, references for the scripture readings, and song numbers for the hymnal. I always feel like I am missing some layer of whatever is happening in the moment as I flip ahead in the books to ensure that I don’t ACTUALLY miss something later. One of these days, I’ll just have most of the every-day stuff memorized. Of course, today was tricky, because we were doing Rite II… and we do Rite I in the early-morning services that we attend. Or it’s the other way around? Oh I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m barely keeping up with this stuff!

The highlight of the Maundy Thursday liturgy, if you ask me, was the foot-washing. Not that I get excited about touching the feet of a stranger… or having a stranger’s fingers between my toes… or walking back to my seat (and my shoes) on a somewhat dusty floor with slightly damp, bare feet. But foot-washings always kind of mess with me… in a good way. While washing someone’s feel almost feels natural, I have a hard time letting someone else wash my feet (never mind the fingers-between-the-toes part). Seriously… I usually find myself on the verge of tears every time my feet are washed (excluding daily self-washings of the feet, obviously). Tonight, of course, was no exception. I seriously need to learn to receive. (He’s getting me there… gradually.)

I ended up washing Father Mann’s feet tonight. The thing that’s funny about it is… it’s Father Mann. He’s like the Senior Priest and Chief Executive Something-or-other of the church. I see the man up front every Sunday (so some degree of unreal familiarity) and really don’t know him personally at all. (I’ve at least had conversations with Father Spicer and Mother Hutchinson.) But Father Mann’s feet and I… we’re actually fairly well acquainted, at this point.

(For the record, that no one was keeping and no one wanted to keep, his left foot was much more thoroughly cleaned than his right. About half-way through the first foot, I was like… Wow… should have done that differently. More water, Christine… more water. I may have overcompensated on the other foot. Who knows. It’s not like his feet were actually dirty, anyway!)

The Maundy Thursday liturgy ended in silence. Talk about an awkward dismissal. Actually, it was really good. It just seemed like it should be really awkward. (You know you’re writing a great blog when you immediately contradict your own statements. Go, Christine, go!)

The silence was the beginning of the Maundy Thursday Vigil… and continues until noon today (Good Friday).

To cover the vigil, they had a board where people could sign up for hour-long shifts to come and pray. Since we do that kind of thing every night… we decided it would be a good idea to stay all night. Well… Richard decided… and I started to get really excited about the idea of it. Hours upon hours of silence and solitude. It’s something I really don’t do that much of, but I knew would probably be very (challenging and) good for me. Sadly, Richard and I were the only ones (in our group) who stayed.

Lesson learned: Next time I decide to do something like that… I might need to bring my own chair or something. Those wooden pews are not very conducive to six hours of sitting. Not at all.

I actually really enjoyed the hours of silence. OK… so I had my moments of boredom and restlessness. But those mostly took place every time I had to get up to go to the bathroom. Seriously, I’d be having a great time in the room, I’d get up to avoid wetting myself… and I’d suddenly have a hard time getting myself to go back into the room. Part of it was the simple pleasure of walking around and getting my butt off of that wooden torture-bench. It felt great to stand and walk. Huh… maybe I should have just done that in the chappel. OK… new strategy for next time! (Although, I think that someone standing or pacing around might make some people a little uncomfortable. Everyone pretty much… sits and kneels.)

When you have more than 6 hours of near-silence, it’s nice to get to dive into the word for some of that. I spent a lot of time in the book of Exodus. Wow. And Psalm 22. Wow again. I took Psalm 22 especially slow. It made me cry. Fortunately, I did not cross into the heaving sobbing weepiness of the night before (when I was sitting on the FRONT row in the prayer room). I just had the moisture spilling out of the eyes bit… while my nose reached a point of manageable runniness. (No snot gushing uncontrollably out of the center of my face.) I ventured briefly into other areas of the Bible… but those were the parts I loved the most and gave the most time to.

We actually ended up leaving early. Around 3am, I guess Richard got the brilliant idea of coming back to church at noon. So… he needed to get home and sleep. The trip home was slightly delayed by Richard’s kind offer to buy a massive energy drink for the officer who was stuck watching the church from 8 PM to 8 AM. We went in search of a gas station that Richard had accidentally found with his GPS earlier in the night… and didn’t find it. So we had to go with a gas station that was probably closer and definitely easier to find (and that we had known the location of from the very beginning of our journey to get the drink).

When I came home, there was a very active (and, lets be honest, loud) gathering of friends at my house from the usual Thursday night hangout. Aaron said I looked like I was experiencing serious culture shock when I first entered the scene. It was a HUGE contrast from the blissful silence of the last several hours. (Richard did spend about an hour singing and chanting. It was the one hour of the night when we were the only ones in the room. To be completely honest, it was actually a really good hour. I enjoyed the generally unobtrusive interruption to the silence. And his voice carried nicely through the large, empty space. And… some of the stuff he was singing… oy.)

Oh… by the way… the little “Resurrection Chapel” (sign on the door) where they had the altar of repose, was super cute. Lots of wood. Each section in the ceiling had 20.5 boards. (Yeah, counted those right after one of my boredom-inducing bathroom runs.) It kind of reminds me of a log cabin… the same kind of feel. OK… so the whole church is absolutely beautiful. I love it. But… I really enjoyed that little area tonight.

I’m still recovering from the 2-2.5 hours at home after all of that… but I feel really good. I like prayer. I like God. I actually like silence, too. I wish I could have more nights like that.

On Saturday night, during our team’s set, I was not running screens and simply sat in the room, participating in the intercession set. When it came time for small group prayer, I did something that I haven’t done in months. I actually got up and prayed in a small group.

To be completely honest, the experience made me want to continue avoiding small group prayer for another 8 months or so. One of the people in my small group just kept praying… and praying… and praying… and praying. And Richard wasn’t playing a particularly small-group-friendly song. I can’t tell you how many times I started to turn to walk away (from the other two girls in our group of 3) before I would stop myself and continue to wait it out. (Yep… I’m pretty weak.)

A couple hours later, however, I decided that I might want to keep doing that small group prayer thing.

At the beginning of that gruelingly long small group prayer, I prayed for Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church.

Richard began attending Saint Andrew’s when the Nazarene church he was attending stopped having their early morning services on Sunday. Once he has been going for a while, he kept talking about the experience, and I eventually decided to try it out.

I ended up crying through about half of the first service that I went to. The liturgy was just so rich… the scripture readings, the truths we sang, the things we declared… the creed… the Eucharist. All of it was amazing and so alive to me. And I have been going each Sunday that I am able, ever since that day. I intend to go through at least a full year of the church calendar. (And things are getting really exciting about now, as Holy Week begins on Sunday. Lent is nearly over!)

Back to Saturday’s 4am set (technically Sunday morning).

In our small group, I prayed that the Lord would breathe life into the scripture readings and sacraments… every bit of the liturgy at Saint Andrew’s that day. That, as the word was being read and the songs were being sung, He would move hearts. I especially focused on the scripture readings… that He really would really break in as His word was being spoken.

Well, about two hours later, I found myself standing between the pews of that beautiful church, facing towards the center of the church where they were about to begin the gospel reading.

The reading was John 11, the story of Lazarus and his sisters. “I am the resurrection and the life.” About a dozen or so verses into the reading, tears began spilling down my cheeks. My heart was absolutely tender before the Lord and I was overwhelmed with emotion. I started crying several other times throughout the remainder of the service, as well.

On the drive home, I was thinking about the service we had just left and realized that my experience at church that morning was exactly what I had asked the Lord to do. I cannot speak for the hearts of the rest of the congregation. But the Lord was speaking to me, to the deepest places within me, throughout the entire service. I’ll take that as an answer to my simple little prayer.

And that’s more than enough to make me keep asking.