It is difficult to write this letter because April has several weeks of penitential Lent in it but also has joyful Easter. Also there seems to be so much happening all around the world that is terrible and dark – and our own country is having to tighten its belt to cope. Maybe by Apri we will have good news, but not from everywhere. At the moment it seems there is so much going on I hardly know how to pray. So how then can I speak of Joy? How dare I share the excitement that builds in me, as I begin to plan the dawn service for Easter day?

Here’s a thought. It was in the darkness of your mother’s womb that you were created, It was in the darkness of the sealed tomb that God worked to bring his son back to life. It was through the tears of deep grief that Mary saw Jesus in the garden.

This isn’t to say that there has to be suffering for God to work – but it is to say that even in the very darkest parts of human life (and maybe even in lives that are not human), God is at work.

When we see those terrible pictures of Gaza, when we hear what is happening to people in the West Bank, when we think of Russian and Ukrainian and Israeli Mothers yearning for their soldier children, when we see refugee camps burgeoning around the Congo and Sudan, maybe when we think of deep sadnesses or shames of our own life, we acknowledge that the world seems very shadowed. But the power we trust in works in the deep dark – just as it does in the light, bringing resurrection. That power will never cease and cannot be overcome. And we can be part of it.

And that is exactly what we are celebrating, as we get up early on Easter moring, stumble our way to the church yard, gather around the Easter fire that burns in the dark – and together, wait for dawn.

Have a good last few weeks of Lent and may you be found by Joy this Easter.