Son Rising

Growing up as a Free Methodist teenager, we sometimes marked Easter by getting up ridiculously early after a sleepover and then walking up a particularly daunting hill such as Beacon Fell. There we would see the sunrise, at which point we’d sing a load of choruses in an act of worship invariably called Son Rise. A hundred or so were present though the prospect of seeing members of the opposite sex from other churches may have been as much a motivation to rise so early as the Bowland dawn. 

Right now, the sky has gone from black to grey to a dull blue. The sun is up, but its rays are barely felt. Give it time, and the light will seep through the gaps in every curtain till we have brilliant day. 
Despite Jesus’ rising from the dead, much of the world still lies in a deathly stupor, barely aware of His life-giving and death-destroying ministry. I look forward to the day when He shall return, not just from the grave but from heaven, shining His glorious light into every dank and dire crevice of human existence. 
Come, Lord Jesus. 
But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up.
2 Peter 3:10
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