Early in the morning on the first day of the week, the women went to the tomb... arriving, they found the stone rolled back, but him they did not (as yet) see...

This morning I was up before the sun (sleep not happening!) and so able to get up to church just as the sun rose, to adjust our Easter garden to its final scene... stone rolled back, white ribbon fluttering from the cross, angel by the open tomb.

The service centred on the story right at the end of John's gospel, and and was an interactive, intergenerational attempt to explore a story that went from sadness (dejected disciples going fishing) to surprise (a huge catch of fish, spotted by a stranger) and sustenance (a very welcome warm fire and tasty breakfast) to serious conversation and steps on a beach (how much do you love me... and will you go with me?)

The level of participation was excellent, with teardrops of sadness/regret being cast into the sea of God's forgetfulness... footsteps of commitment being placed on the beach... and daffodil-cross prayers (a lovely tradition that didn't neatly fit my story but was still needed) connected out celebrating with the wider world and are ongoing lives.

It was, truly, a special Easter service, with a congregation of over fifty people - more than half of whom were not white, and many who have been with us weeks or months rather than years - bringing our Easter explorations to a fitting end.

The scene set for the service... a beach, a fishing boat (chairs for disciples to sit on!), a 'fire' and (just out of view) a picnic breakfast of bread and rape juice. 

Left to Right:

Peter's boat... fire on the beach... tears in the sea... miraculous catch (we had a 'fish hunt' to find and catch them)... footprints of followers...