I had heard a lot about Miss Virginia. She was getting old and feeble. She could seldom come to church. It was such a struggle. That wasn’t an excuse, either. She was in constant pain. She could walk around her house because she knew where everything was and where the next piece of furniture was that she could use to steady herself but walking anywhere else was a major problem. I had not met her yet because she had been sick and unable to be in church, but now, three weeks after being called to the little church up on the hill, I was pulling into her drive.

               She sat in her porch rocker, a heavy sweater on and an afghan across her lap. It was an early summer day in the panhandle of Florida. Plenty warm for me, but for her that bright day it was chilly. She knew I was coming, so there was a pitcher of ice tea on a small table in front of her, and some sweet breads. As I walked up the steps she greeted me in the sweetest voice one could imagine.

          “Well, Pastor Wade, it is a delightful pleasure to meet you! Please sit down and take some tea with me.” First visit. Trying to remember what we had been taught about consideration for the elderly on a visit. Just stay a short while, don’t get comfortable, have a word of prayer and a firm but gentle handshake.

“Miss Virginia, it is a true pleasure to meet you, as well. However, my schedule is such today that I can stay only for a bit. Perhaps I take that tea at a later visit.” Just like they had taught us in school. Considerate of their time.

“Oh my goodness, Pastor! You must have misunderstood me. You will sit right here next to me, we will drink this pitcher of tea, we will eat these little cakes and we will watch for my deer in the woods while we chat. Sit down!”

Funny, really, that this approach hadn’t been taught in school. I sat. I drank two glasses of the sweetest tea that had ever been brewed. I ate sweet breads that were a bit scorched on the bottom. I rocked in a creaky, but surprisingly comfortable wooden rocker and I spotted three deer while having the most wonderful conversation with the most delightful lady I had ever met. When I did finally get up to leave, Miss Virginia told me I would be back again the next week. I started to protest, but she fixed me with this tiny little glare. I just said, “Yes Ma’am.”

It was at one of these visits that I learned of the tradition. When Miss Virginia was a little girl her mother taught her how to play the piano. Around the age of nine the little girl became the church’s piano player. She loved music and she loved playing the old hymns. More than that, though, she loved her Savior. She was not much for Christmas music, but anything that talked about the Resurrection simply thrilled her spirit. She particularly loved “Christ Arose.” Every Easter Sunrise some of the men would put the old upright piano on casters and roll it out to the front porch of the church and, just as the sun came into the sky, the little girl would begin to play quietly. “Low in the grave He lay, Jesus my Savior. Waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord!” Then the chorus would be cranked up pretty well. “UP FROM THE GRAVE HE AROSE! WITH A MIGHTY TRIUMPH O’ER HIS FOES; HE AROSE A VICTOR FROM THE DARK DOMAIN, AND HE LIVES FOREVER WITH HIS SAINTS TO REIGN…..HE AROSE! HE AROSE!! HALLELUJAH! CHRIST AROSE!”

The next two verses would be delivered in the same manner. A couple of the old timers who were older than Miss Virginia were still left when I was there and one sweet older man named Darius told me that Miss Virginia, even as a little girl, would weep as she played the song. All those years later, Miss Virginia told me her version of the story. In her version the people insisted that she play the song, both at Sunrise and to close the morning worship. “They just love that song.” Nothing about how much she loved it nor the intensity with which she played it. “And do you know, Pastor. They still insist I come on Easter and play that song to close the service. I can’t come out for Sunrise anymore, but if they have to carry me into the church and then up to the piano, I guess I’ll have to play it. Just don’t understand. Sally (the ‘new’ piano payer for the last twelve years) plays it just fine.”

Any one I talked to about it said that Miss Virginia’s playing of that song made their Resurrection Day. Even Sally. She told me she never wanted to play it because she loved hearing Miss Virginia play. I found myself really looking forward to Easter.

Sunrise service Sally played the song. It really was glorious. We had maybe thirty people gathered in front of the church and they were all singing for the heavens. We went in and had coffee and sweet breads and had a really good fellowship. Church came and it was a wonderful Easter service with the choir singing a cantata. The cantata wasn’t great, but it sounded fine on that morning. And then the service was ready to close. Miss Virginia sat on the front pew. Sally helped her to her feet and walked her the few feet to the piano. In that church the pastor led the music. Almost anyone would have done a better job than me. The old piano player who loved to play but who was so uncertain of her abilities and the young pastor who could have done without music altogether prepared to lead a congregation that was leaning forward in expectation.

We began, quietly;

Low in the grave He lay—Jesus my Savior!
Waiting the coming day —Jesus my Lord!

Now the piano and the voices began to boom;

UP FROM THE GRAVE HE AROSE!
WITH A MIGHTY TRIUMPH O’ER HIS FOES!
HE AROSE A VICTOR FROM THE DARK DOMAIN!
AND HE LIVES FOREVER WITH HIS SAINTS TO REIGN!
HE AROSE! HE AROSE!
HALLELUJAH! CHRIST AROSE!

Even though Miss Virginia had never practiced this together, I knew to get quiet;

Vainly they watch His bed—Jesus my Savior!
Vainly they seal the dead—Jesus my Lord!

Here the crescendo began again;

UP FROM THE GRAVE HE AROSE!
WITH A MIGHTY TRIUMPH O’ER HIS FOES!
HE AROSE A VICTOR FROM THE DARK DOMAIN!
AND HE LIVES FOREVER WITH HIS SAINTS TO REIGN!
HE AROSE! HE AROSE!
HALLELUJAH! CHRIST AROSE!

Now it got very quiet;

Death cannot keep his prey—Jesus my Savior!
He tore the bars away—Jesus my Lord!

And now, like the shouting of triumphant angels, piano and congregation lifted their sound as a joyous noise to the Lord, so intense my pulpit began to vibrate;

UP FROM THE GRAVE HE AROSE!
WITH A MIGHTY TRIUMPH O’ER HIS FOES!
HE AROSE A VICTOR FROM THE DARK DOMAIN!
AND HE LIVES FOREVER WITH HIS SAINTS TO REIGN!
HE AROSE! HE AROSE!
HALLELUJAH! CHRIST AROSE!

          Wow.

          Tuesday morning after Easter Miss Virginia’s nephew, Gerald, started banging on my door around 6 AM. He went over every morning to get the coffee on and get the house warm so she could start her day. “You gotta come quick, Preacher! Aunt Virginia isn’t breathing and she’s cold!” I jumped in Gerald’s truck and Marsha followed in a few minutes with the baby. Gerald had made a phone call for the ambulance and had called one of the ladies in the church, a close neighbor, before he left the house. Miss Virginia lived about five minutes from us, so not much time had passed, but the yard was full of cars and trucks. When we rushed into the house, a local pastor that everyone loved and who was now newly retired, stood over Miss Virginia holding her hand, tears running down his face. Believe it or not, his last name was Christmas and his parents must have thought it quite cute to name him Merry. He was loved and greatly respected in the community, not unlike Larry Ray. I didn’t feel ready to deal with everyone else’s grief when I had so much of my own, so I was perfectly happy to see Merry there. He looked up and motioned me over. “These are your people, my friend.” He placed Miss Virginia’s hand in mine then whispered to me, “Pray with your people.” I didn’t realize it at the time, but Merry gave me a great gift that morning. Right there I went from being a 28 year old ‘preacher boy’ to being their pastor. At the time, however, my heart was breaking.

          We closed the funeral in the church with Sally proving she was a worthy successor to Miss Virginia as she played “Christ Arose” with all the feeling Miss Virginia had put into it, but the singing was muffled. Most of the people there, including the young pastor leading the music, were trying to sing as they cried. We buried Miss Virginia in the cemetery behind the church she loved.

          I have always loved Sunrise service. In Ohio we would go to a particular bluff overlooking Lake Erie. Always a little group. Usually the Lake was still iced over, so it was always cold. But one of our ladies played the trumpet. As the sun would break and turn the surface of the ice an incredible red, “Christ Arose” would stream from her trumpet and eight or ten or fifteen very cold people would raise their voices once more. “Low in the grave He lay, Jesus my Savior. Waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord!”  

          Easter morning, April first, at Speicher Cemetery this year at 7:15, we will gather to witness the blessedness of the rising sun as it begins to lighten the earth. We will feel the wonder the ladies felt on that first Resurrection Day when they realized something amazing had happened. And, we will lift our voices in triumph with the words to “Christ Arose.” After, we will come back to the church and have a fellowship in Parish Hall. Come and join us.

            Blessings.