From far away came a terrifying noise. As I realized it was the alarm, I groaned. How could it be four o’clock already?
It was Easter morning, and I was in charge of the outdoor sunrise service at our church, Emmanuel Methodist. My long-suffering husband and I bundled our three small sons into the car and drove to the church.
A pantomime of the events between the Last Supper and the resurrection was quite an undertaking, involving a cast of almost thirty teenagers and young adults and tons of props. Two months of rehearsal were behind us. I was so tired that the back of my neck felt like fire. I knew the others were just as tired.
What if no one comes? I wondered as I entered the dark building. What if the choir doesn’t show up? What if . . . I stopped myself. I closed my eyes and whispered for the last time the brief prayer that had been repeated by all of us in the past few weeks.
“Father, just use us. Let the people see your hand in this.”
I heard laughter outside, and two teenagers came in, reporting they had forgotten their thongs. Then everyone seemed to come in a rush. I went from group to group, going over their cues.
Somewhere in this confusion, we discovered that no one had been asked to supply the sound effects when it came time for the cock to crow. Panic-stricken, I searched out each cast member, begging for someone to imitate a rooster. Under different circumstances, those rooster auditions would have been hilarious. But now they were merely frustrating. The only passable crower in the group was a choir member who would be in full view of the audience.
I sneaked a peek outside. The churchyard was full. An audience like that, and no rooster!
I saw the minister taking his place as narrator. This was his first church, and he was as nervous as I. He motioned for the cast to take their positions. Too late now to find a rooster. The young man who was to portray Christ passed me. He was a new convert, and his face was as white as his robe. I tried to smile, the service started, and the rooster was forgotten.
I watched from behind the church door as the characters began to move silently in accordance with the passage of Scripture being read. Somehow in the first light from the sun, the words took on a new reality. The stillness felt actually holy.
When the boy portraying Peter bent to warm his hands at our small fire, I remembered the rooster. I hoped fervently that the minister would not pause at the passage. The words came clearly: “And immediately, while he yet spake, the cock crew” (Luke 22:60 KJV).
The young minister’s rich voice faltered, his hands holding the Bible shook, and even the crowd caught its breath when it happened. Faintly, yet ever so distinctly, from the direction of the city limits, came the crow of a rooster heralding the dawn. Into the silence came the cry—once, twice, three times!
The cast members were stunned. The minister recovered and went on. There was no time to speak to one another, but there was an awareness in the air, like electricity. Had God performed a little miracle just for us?
The rest of the service was like a dream. Each actor who came off whispered, “Did you hear the rooster?” As the closing hymn died away, the audience began to buzz, “Did you hear the rooster?”
During the following week, the word spread throughout the community. “You should’ve been at the sunrise service. When the preacher came to the verse where the rooster crowed, one did—three times! It was . . . well . . . like a miracle.”
With all the gigantic problems and needs of our world, this experience may seem trivial. But I wonder, doesn’t God work in small as well as in big events? I think he does, for exciting things have happened to people in our church. As for me, I have come to look for God’s hand in the little things of each day.