by Michael Boyink / email@example.com
We had gotten up at 3 a.m. Dressed. Made coffee. Ate something. And drove the hour-plus from our campsite to the Grand Canyon.
All in the dark.
We used flashlights to find our way to the overlook on the south rim of the canyon.
Along with a couple hundred other people.
Hushed voices spoke in strange accents and foreign tongues. If we had taken a survey, I’m sure it would have found slight differences in our beliefs.
And yet, we were one. Here for a single reason.
The eastern sky lightened. Black turned to blue. Long shadows fell on the ground.
The outline of a cross appeared against an angry sky
A slow-reveal first view of the Grand Canyon.
The incredible depth. The vast width. The colors. The endless outcroppings of rock. So incomprehensible your brain tells you it’s really just the largest painted canvas backdrop ever.
And the cross. Standing as mute counterpoint.
It caused our own dawning realization.
As vast, as big, as unfathomable as the Grand Canyon is, it’s a mere teaspoon compared to God’s love for us.
With everything going on right now, it’s easy to feel like we’re standing on the edge of an abyss, with a large Grand Canyon of our own stretching out before us.
A canyon of fear. Of uncertainty. Of doubt
A popular saying says “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
I think that has it the wrong way around.
When it’s time to get to the other side of that canyon?
We’ll bridge that cross.
This year’s Easter Sunrise Service at the Grand Canyon is still scheduled for April 12th at 5:40 a.m at Mather Point Overlook in the Grand Canyon National Park. Details at grandcanyoncommunitychurch.org/easter-sunrise-service-2.