A Prayer for the Quiet Work of Resurrection

A prayer for the holy work that doesn’t make Easter happen, but shows up just the same.

O Lord of empty tombs and early mornings,
we lift up to you the ones who get the church ready.

The pastors poring over sermons by lamplight, the music directors scribbling notes in margins and coaxing beauty from tired voices. The organists, pianists, and musicians who practice until their fingers remember what their minds are too tired to recall.

The flower guild arranging lilies just so. The altar guild polishing brass and folding linens crisp as resurrection hope. The communion stewards checking the trays—twice—then once more, just to be sure.

We lift up the volunteers who stuff eggs and stuff bulletins and stuff too many folding chairs into too small spaces. The ones who climb ladders and wrangle extension cords and vacuum glitter out of carpet fibers.

The ushers counting heads and saving seats. The ones brewing coffee by the gallon and setting out signs that say “Welcome” and mean it.

Grant them endurance, Lord.
Not just strength to do the work, but joy in the doing.
Let their preparations be praise. Let their service be song.
Even the unnoticed stuff. Especially that.

And remind us, God,
that the tomb still would have been empty
even if the lilies arrived late
even if the choir missed a note
even if the bulletins were misprinted
even if nothing went quite as planned.

We do not make Easter happen.
You do.

Still—may every broomstroke, chord, blossom, and bulletin
become a prayer lifted to you—
a whispered alleluia
before the trumpets sound.

And when the sanctuary fills,
when the lights dim and the tomb is empty,
may they feel it deep in their bones:
They were part of the miracle.
Not necessary.
But still, somehow, gloriously included.

Amen.