My Most Unforgettable Easter

Once upon a time, down on the east coast of Florida, I was a member of a Christian church. I was active in my church. There were a number of people in our congregation who thought I had promise as a preacher. One of these folks told me about an opening for a leader in a non-denominational Christian program at a small college in Western New York. I applied for the position. I was accepted!

I was born and raised in Florida. I had never seen snow, except on television. My blood was thin, but my faith was strong. Like Jed Clampett, I loaded up my truck and moved to a place totally foreign to me. The drive up was a terror! Winding roads, snow, ice, and sleet. What in God's name was I doing? I negotiated with God on a number of matters. If I live through this I promise I'll . . . God, I don't want to die!

God must have heard me because I made it to my destination in one piece. The people at the college were friendly. I was well received by the students and faculty who made up the non-denominational church. If I didn't freeze to death, life would be good here.

Several weeks before Easter vacation (pardon me - 'Spring Break' - must be politically correct) I got it in my head to have a sunrise service. We would hold it the Sunday before the break started and everyone was still on campus.

I had participated in a number of seaside sunrise services back home and found them very inspiring. I searched all over the county looking for just the right site for this sunrise service. And I found it! It was a summer cottage colony on the eastern shore of Lake Erie. At this time of year it was almost totally uninhabited. There was a vacant lot with the cliffs overlooking the lake on the west end and a grove of deciduous trees to the east. The rising sun would come through the barren tree branches symbolizing the rising sun (son) overcoming death (the dead limbs). With the right sermon, this could be inspiring.

Spring in Western New York is a battle between the forces of winter trying to stay in charge with freezing temperatures, snow and bitter winds, and the forces of spring trying to warm things up with sunny days and fair breezes. The battle goes back and forth for weeks. There would be a period of 'spring' followed by the return of 'winter'. The week before our scheduled sunrise service there had been a warm spell. The ice along the edge of the lake had melted back quite a bit. The jagged edges of the up-thrust plates of ice on the lake had melted to smooth cones and weird dreamscape shapes. Then winter came back. Cold Canadian winds blew across the lake churning up the water and dashing it against the cliffs. The spray from the waves covered every surface with a layer of crystalline caramel. Then, when the wind stopped, it snowed, covering the ground in pristine, blinding white fluff. I wasn't worried about the blinding snow. We would be there at sunrise. No great glare at that time.

Our little congregation met at the school's main parking in the dark with everyone bundled up and excited for this new experience. I brought coffee and the bus. The bus was a standard yellow school bus, with no heater to speak of. My biggest concern was that I didn't want my congregation to see just how cold I really was. It would be a miracle if I could deliver the sermon through my chattering teeth. But, I'd do my best.

We got to the site I'd found. I had a steel cross that I hammered into the frozen ground. I set up a podium facing the east. I put a robe on over my coat. I was ready. And on cue, the sun began to rise. It came up a little more to the south than I'd thought it would. So I had my group back up a bit and shift to one side of the west end of the vacant lot.

I began my sermon, my back to the flock, facing the rising sun so that no one could see my frozen red face or chattering teeth. It started slowly. I could tell that the group was almost as cold as I was. They were not getting into the spirit of the service.

Then it happened. Behind me I heard a voice call out, "Oh Jesus!" Then another call out, "I'm back sliding, God help me!"

I stayed facing the rising sun, calling back to my flock, "When you feel you are sliding back to evil ways, just call on the Lord! He will save you!"

There were more ecstatic calls behind me.

"I've fallen, God, I don't want to end up down there!"

"Good God, Give me a hand!"

"Save me I don't want to die like this!"

"Sweet Jesus, turn around and help me!"

This last call seemed odd. I turned around to see that the members of my congregation were all lying on their stomachs. There was a rise in the vacant lot where we had been standing. Under a thin layer of snow was a thick layer of caramel ice. My flock was slipping away toward the cliff and the ice cold lake!

I took off my robe, wrapped it around the base of the steel cross and inched toward the closest member of the group. "Take my hand!"

He took it. "Climb over me and go to the trees. You'll be safe there!"

He did. And he was.

I swung over to the next person. She grabbed my hand. Another person grabbed that girl's foot and climbed over her, to me and to safety.

I did a lot more negotiating with the Lord. "Let me get these people back to safety and I promise I'll ..." I was also thinking that it would not look good on my resume if fourteen people died of hypothermia at a sunrise service I had held in the middle of winter on the shore of Lake Erie! What was I thinking?

The Lord must have been paying attention to me once more. It was close, but all fourteen members of my congregation managed to clamber to safety. All of us had chattering teeth. Some from fear. Me from fear and the cold!

Years later while attending a ministers' congregation, and one Pastor asked me if I had ever had anyone saved during an Easter service. With a straight face I answered, "I once saved fourteen souls at a sunrise service! It was a day no one who was there will ever forget."