The heavy wooden cross rested on my shoulder as my muscles burned. I kept thinking, “He carried this by himself?” I was struggling and had three friends helping me. One step forward. Then another. I focused on His march to Calvary as we walked down the aisle. Every few minutes, we’d pause. The burn intensified. “How did He do this? How did He handle the pain?”
When we got to the stand, we had one shot of getting the cross’ base into the holder. I knew it would be awkward if it fell on one of the singers — or us. There are worse ways to die but this would be from humiliation. I held my breath as my burning arms extended up. Three…two….one…..
We raised the cross like the flag over Iwo Jima.
And at that moment, the sun went down. The light behind the giant stained glass in the front of the church extinguished and the bright colors went dark. It was the moment hope died.
I felt cold.
The good news is the story has a happy ending. Easter came on Sunday and we were throwing Hallelujahs around like beads on Mardi Gras. But I’ll never forget that moment when the lights went out. When the sun went down. When I was diagnosed with cancer. When I lost a job. When I faced an injury. When I felt alone. When I…
No matter how dark the moment, there is always hope.
Happy Easter, y’all.