Miss Jane’s Sunrise Miracle and the Grace of God

My earliest Easter memory is not of an egg hunt, although traditional festivities were abundant in my childhood.  In my heart, my idea of Resurrection Sunday has made a great difference.  For that, I’m quite thankful.  Our memories shape us in some small way, I think.  

I truly cherish my first memory of Easter and retell it more often than perhaps my closest family members would choose themselves, but alas, they listen graciously each year as I retell a memory so precious to my heart.

I honestly don’t know how they did it year after year but I’m so thankful that they did, so that I could strive for similar Easter mornings in my own home.  My parents never missed a Sunrise Service at our First Baptist church in the Midwest.  If they missed a singular year, my sharp childhood memory has no such account for the absence.

We always woke early enough to enjoy Easter baskets.  I have the pictures in pink, sponge rollers and nightgowns to document those Sundays.  I always ate every last piece of Easter candy in less than a week.  We always had an egg hunt.  I remember my dad pointing us in the direction of plastic eggs around the living room, tucked behind rocking chairs and perched on bookshelves.  My mom always had a broccoli and cheese casserole in the oven before we left for the church’s Sunrise service.  My little brother always had suspenders or a straw hat.  I always had white gloves or a blush pink purse to match my pastel ruffles.  My pale shins were always bruised from my less than ladylike adventures in the country, but on Easter morning, I wore shiny shoes and frilly socks because my mom had high hopes I would grow into more ladylike ways.  

We left Redbird Lane while it was still dark. Praise God that my parents were early risers. Clearly, they could accomplish much before pulling into the church parking lot just before 6:30 on Easter Sunday! Perhaps that’s why Easter Sunday is the one day a year that I traditionally insist on leaving the house as early as humanly possible.

I’m completely convinced that the best parts of Easter happened as the sun rose over the Baptist church in the middle of our small town. That’s where my earliest, most clear memory of Easter took place.  This memory has no pictures to remind me of the way it happened.  In my own mind, the miraculous event is as clear as a church bell.

My dad would always hold my gloved hand as we walked across the church parking lot to the little field of grass where the church gathered for Sunrise Service.  

My mom’s heels would click behind us as she carried my baby brother to the place where our fellow congregants stood awaiting the sun.

I still remember the faces of church ladies: Miss Rosie, Miss Sue, Miss Margie, Miss Patsy, Miss Norma, Miss Darlene, Miss Jan, and so many others; all huddled beside one another to keep warm on those chilly mornings.  So many of those women are with Jesus now. How they must celebrate at His throne!

I can still close my eyes and imagine Brother Harold with his black suit and glasses clutching his Bible and rocking forward a bit as he sang hymns and smiled.  I always liked the way the white-haired pastor seemed to enjoy the music.  

I can still remember the way the minister of music directed the familiar, “Up from the Grave He Arose!”  It’s ironic how much I appreciated these musical moments in church services, since my husband is now the one leading congregants in this same traditional Easter hymn.  My heart has always had a place for meaningful lyrics and harmonies.  

I can remember the details, but I’m unsure of the year.  My best estimation is that this Sunrise Service miracle happened somewhere near 1988 or maybe 1989 because I know my brother, Caleb was very small.

I always loved the soloists in my church, but Miss Jane was extra special to me.  Miss Jane seemed to peek right into my heart because she sort of discovered my love for music and my theatrical streak.

At a very young age, I was asked to play a special speaking role for Miss Jane’s Christmas cantata with the adult choir.  This was all it took for Miss Jane to become one of my favorite grown ups in the Baptist church.  

I can’t remember any other specifics about this particular Sunrise Service, but you can be sure I was watching when Miss Jane sang a solo that morning on the grass beside the three wooden crosses.

Miss Jane sang beautifully!  I’m sure I was pleased to know the song.  She was singing a song from one of my mom’s favorite cassette tapes.  Even as a preschooler, I knew every word to this Sandi Patty song. (Side note

: This cassette tape, titled Morning Like This, by Sandi Patty is still very much the album on repeat on Spotify every year on Holy Week. It’s dear to my heart and I don’t mind one bit that it’s straight out of the eighties. Thank you very much.)

Jane was a soprano and she sang with a happy heart.  Her tone was beautiful and her range was on point as she seemed to effortlessly smile while singing this solo that gradually built with more and more celebration of the risen Jesus!

Crowds have lined the narrow street, To see this man from Galilee.  Just a carpenter some say, leading fools astray.  Yet many kneel to give Him praise.

And in His eyes, they glimpse the power; That sees the heart of all men.

And He knows His Father’s mind. He speaks His Father’s words.  For He comes in the name of the Lord!

There is strength in the name of the Lord!
There is power in the name of the Lord!

There is hope in the name of the Lord!

Blessed is He, who comes in the name of the Lord!

When my plans have fallen through, And when my strength is nearly gone. When there’s nothing left to do but just depend on You, And the power of Your name.

And as we call upon Your name; Your strength through weakness to show. We can know the masters plan extend the masters hand, When we come in the name of the Lord!

There is strength in the name of the Lord!
There is power in the name of the Lord!

There is hope in the name of the Lord!

Blessed is He, who comes in the name of the Lord!”

The whole world seemed to listen as the sun began to rise.  I’m sure I grinned beneath my Easter bonnet and springy, brown curls.  The birds must have stopped to listen because there was stillness as Miss Jane sang the triumphant bridge of the song.  I can picture the vibrant colors of sunrise as I remember her singing,

His name will be worshiped forever!

Creator, Redeemer and King!”

What happened next was certainly a miracle in my preschool mind.  I was certain of this!

All at once, there was a key change, the sun rose, and birds flew straight toward the sun directly behind Miss Jane as she sang the next part of the song!  I can still picture those little Easter birds when I think of those spectacular notes and words:

There is strength in the name of the Lord!

There is power in the name of the Lord!
And there is hope in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is He, who comes, blessed is He, who comes!
Blessed is He who comes,

in the name

of the Lord!!!”

Friends, if we hadn’t been standing already, I’m certain every one of us would have jumped to our feet in adoration of Jesus! We had witnessed a miracle! I had seen it with my own brown, preschool eyes.

It was an Easter miracle indeed!

Here’s the funny thing about memories, especially those from early childhood.  While I remember this Easter miracle so clearly in my own mind, it may have happened entirely differently all together.  I can’t be sure how many birds flew or the color of my mom’s high heels.  I am rather certain this was the correct song, however, because of the way this very song triggers a sentimental response each time I hear it.  Year after year, I remember it.  Year after year, I retell it.  

While the details may have become a bit more elaborate from a preschooler’s point of view, I am positively certain of one thing from Miss Jane’s Easter miracle.

My little heart worshipped God that morning.  I saw God’s goodness and understood His majesty in a way only a preschooler would remember.  Perhaps it was one of the first times I had a tiny comprehension of the fullness of  our big and mighty God.  Maybe I could sense His love in a way I hadn’t before.  Only our Great God knows exactly how the Holy Spirit moved in my heart that day.

Although I am abundantly thankful that Miss Jane used her beautiful gift to serve God, I didn’t witness this “miracle” because of Miss Jane.  While I am eternally, truly eternally, thankful that God gifted my brother and I with parents that prioritized worship services, my own relationship with God wasn’t pending on their relationship with God.

My heart moved that Resurection Sunday to love God in a way that I hadn’t experienced Him before.  And this? This is the grace of God.

I didn’t fully understand God that day.  I don’t fully understand God today.  I won’t be able to comprehend his majesty until one day when my faith becomes sight and I see Him. That day, I simply believed that God was worthy of praise. I simply believed that something happened because someone brought glory to God, the Father. I believed that birds flew and the sun rose in perfect timing with someone’s worship of God.  I simply believed.  I think this is my best picture of childlike, mustard-seed sized faith.

My salvation didn’t come from my parents, but I’m so grateful they obeyed God to steward the children He had entrusted in their care.

My salvation didn’t come from Miss Jane or other singers, leaders, teachers, or ministers in the big Baptist church in the middle of a small town.  Yet, I know they obeyed God to use their gifts and knowledge to teach and minister to souls just like my own.

A few Springs after Miss Jane’s miracle, I surrendered my life to Jesus.  I was listening to another Sandi Patty cassette and recovering from the Chicken Pox.  The words, “If you’re saved and you know it, say ‘Amen!'” struck a chord with my little heart.  The Holy Spirit spoke again.  By the grace of God, I could hear something I hadn’t heard before. God was at work and He still is.  In retrospect, God had been at work for some time.  Hadn’t he?

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” ~Ephesians 2:8 ESV

When my boys were tiny, we attended this same Baptist church in the middle of that same small town. My husband would go ahead of us to lead music and I would drive our minivan full of two toddlers and a baby to Sunrise Service at the latest possible minute. Some years, I would load my boys up in a wagon with jackets and blankets and shake the hot curlers out of my hair before running down the hill with three little boys in tow. Our littlest guy began a tradition of wearing his “church hat” on Easters before he was old enough to pronounce the /r/ in church. It was quite precious.

Since moving to a different smallish town in the Midwest, my husband leads the music in our church without a sunrise service. I tend to go outside at sunrise to sing with the birds anyway. I can’t miss a Sunrise service.

Later in the morning, I will show up and worship Jesus with all of my heart.  I cannot give the gift of salvation to my babies.  I cannot move in their hearts, but God has been at work in them.

…not a result of works, so that no one may boast.”

~Ephesians 2:9 ESV

God is faithful. His grace surpasses my understanding.  His glory is far more beautiful than even the beauty I saw in “Miss Jane’s miracle.”

He has overcome the sting of death and sin no longer has a hold on my eternity because of the true Easter miracle of Jesus’ Resurrection.  I serve a risen Savior.

I will never fully comprehend His miracles, big or small, on this side of Heaven.  But by His grace? I am redeemed.  I will see the face of Jesus one day.

May we live as the resurrected people, given new life by the grace of God through faith that Jesus is Lord and that God has raised Him from the grave.  May we stand in awe of His grace now and forever.

If you confess with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. ” ~Romans 10:9

Friends, my prayer is that you will publicly confess that Jesus is Lord of all. My deepest desire is for you to believe this in your heart and to confess it with your mouth so that you will see Jesus one day. We will praise Him. He is worthy of all praise.

From my heart to yours,

~Courtney