The weeks leading up to Easter mark our "anniversary" of joining the family of believers at the Chapel. Two years. Three Easters.
They "do" church differently than we had been used to. It's been a big change for all of us.
A good change.
And tonight, Tenebrae. Shadows.
We gather together, not to celebrate, but to remember the death of Jesus.
As the wind howls outside, shaking the old building and driving rain against the rattling windows, we sit in the pews and listen, and participate.
The scriptures. The singing. The prayers. The seven last words.
Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.
I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.
Dear woman, here is your son. Here is your mother.
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
I am thirsty.
It is finished.
Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.
The candles. The darkness. The bell. The silence.
Even the boys are silent. They're getting it.
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus,
the author and perfecter of our fath,
who for the joy set before him
endured the cross, scorning its shame,
and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men,
so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.