What  Of  The  Night?

Uranda   April 17, 1954   8 p.m.

We come to the conclusion of another week, our Saturday evening hour of meditation this Seventeenth Day of April, 1954, the evening before Easter morning. With tomorrow’s dawn we will be gathering on Chapel Hill to share a few moments of meditation in relationship to our commemoration of the Resurrection. But what of the evening before? What of that night?

It is said that “while it was yet dark,” on that morning, there was a visitor to the tomb before the dawn. It was during the night that the Resurrection became a Reality, for the visitor came and found the tomb empty while it was yet dark. What of that Saturday evening? The tragic events of the day before, the day that they called the Sabbath, drew to a close with the setting of the sun and it was the first day of the week, according to their calculations, from the moment of sundown. The hours of the Sabbath had passed and it was the night time. What of that night which preceded the dawn of the first Easter day—the day of the Resurrection?

The seventh day of the week, which was measured from sundown Friday night to sundown Saturday night, was called the Sabbath, a commemoration to remind human beings of the Commandment and of the fact that on the seventh day the LORD rested from His creative work, from all the things that He had made—a pause in the creative cycle. We have considered, and will consider again, aspects of significance in that as they relate to us, But tonight we take note of the fact that the day during which the Master’s body was in the tomb was the Sabbath day. It was Friday afternoon when they hastened to remove His body from the cross and place it in the tomb because it would not do to leave His body there on the Sabbath day. So, on that seventh day, that Sabbath day, the body of our LORD rested in the tomb. The first day of the week began at sundown, and sometime during that night something happened, something took place, according to the record, which had a tremendous impact upon humanity. On that Sabbath day the body of our LORD rested in the tomb, but before the dawn of the first day of the week He was active once more. A new creative cycle opened as one had closed, and the dawn came to reveal an empty tomb. What of that night?

Concerning the events of that night, the record is silent. The record begins with the finding of the empty tomb. Oh, there was the report that the soldiers who were guarding the tomb saw a great light and fled—but what of that night? Man had closed a chapter in the history of the world. He had closed a chapter in that history by the events on Golgotha, the place of the skull.

The human mind is centered in the place of the skull. The self-active determinations of human beings crucified the body of our LORD on Golgotha, the place of the skull. The crucifixion of the body of the Spirit of God has ever been in the place of the skull for the body of mankind which has been undergoing the process of crucifixion for lo these many centuries. The body of the Christ Spirit which man himself crucifies—which is to say, he crucifies himself—is brought to naught in the place of the skull, the self-active mind of man.

So a chapter in history was closed. “In the beginning God created.” The beginning of history was an act of God. Man closed a chapter in the world’s book of history on Golgotha, the place of the skull. “In the beginning God created.” God opened the book of history. Man closed the chapter, but God opened another chapter. As God opened the story in the beginning, man was able to close a chapter on a note of degradation and shame, but man could not keep God from opening another chapter, and though the body of our LORD was at rest in the tomb on the Sabbath day, with the coming of the first day, while it was yet night, God opened another chapter in the world’s book of history. And that chapter, so begun, is not yet closed—it is not yet finished. Shall this chapter be closed on a note of degradation and shame by reason of man's action in the place of the skull, or will this chapter which God began close on a note of noble Victory?

We have a part to play in relationship to the events of this closing chapter which God began that night so long ago. We are helping to write the pages in this chapter of history. “In the beginning God created.” In the beginning of this present chapter in the history of the world God brought forth and restored to action on earth the body of our LORD and KING. In the darkness of the night it seemed to those who were mourning in the city of Old Jerusalem that darkness had proved triumphant, and yet, within that darkness and out of that darkness came the light. God was in action once more, for the body of our LORD had rested through that Sabbath day.

What of that night? For that night was as a womb, and though it was dark it contained the patterns of life, and the body of our LORD came forth from that womb of darkness, and in the early dawn, Mary, lost in grief, perceiving someone standing there, thought him to be the gardener, the caretaker, and she said, “Tell me where they have taken Him.” Was this so strange that Mary should think of such a thing? This tomb into which the body of our Master had been placed had never been used. It was common to have tombs used many times. Among those who were not wealthy in the sense of this world's goods it was common that the burial should be in a tomb, that the family would arrange for the tomb for a day_; or two, or three, and rent it, we would say, so that there should be a nice funeral, and then it was understood and arranged that after the funeral was over and a little time had been granted the body would be removed so that the tomb could be used again. This was common practice in those days, so it was not so strange that she should imagine that the Master's body had been taken from the tomb and put somewhere else. And her mind was filled with wonderment and sorrow, wondering where, for there had been so little time to do anything on Friday night before the coming of the Sabbath. And with tear-dimmed eyes and mind filled with such thoughts as these, she stood asking the question, “If you have taken Him away tell me where?” And a voice answered, “Mary.” In a moment the clouds vanished from her mind and she would have thrown herself upon Him, at His feet, but for His upraised hand and His warning voice, “Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to the Father.” The cycle of ascension was at work—a change in the pattern—and if she had touched Him then, her body could not have withstood the Power that was working through His flesh.

What of that night? Did these things just happen? How did God fulfil His Will in the dark hours of the night? There must have been some yielded flesh; there must have been a yielded mind; there must have been a yielded heart; there must have been some means by which the Will of God was done in the hours of that black night. Man commemorates the day. He arises early to see the dawn. But what of that night?

“Out of darkness have I called my son.”

“Out of Egypt”—that is but a symbol. “Out of darkness have I called my son.” In spite of all the things that had been done to destroy the manifestation of the Christ, He came forth Victorious from the darkness, out of darkness—out of the darkness of the tomb, out of the world situation as it was, and as it is.

Have you known an hour of darkness, of sorrow, of seeming defeat? “Out of darkness have I called my son.” He is revealed with the coming of the dawn, the light of day. But what of the night? It is not, out of the day have I called my son. “Out of the night, out of the darkness, have I called my son.” Think you to find release from darkness into day, that you may then receive the call. If the call comes to you, and you hear it, you come to know, “Out of darkness—out of the darkness of the night, have I called my son.”

What of the night? Should we then so fear the darkness? If we have known darkness, the darkness of the night, we have known that place from whence the Son is called, and this is true. In our Master's release from the tomb, in the rising of the sun, “Out of the darkness have I called my son”—the rising of the sun at the dawn of a New Day. And there was the dawn of a new day because the Son came out of the darkness.

From whence would you be called? Would you first have the day to dawn? Would you first have your fill of food and the fulness of raiment and the comforts of the day, and, having so achieved, would you then hear and answer the call, “Out of darkness have I called my son"? For when it is light and the day is here, must the sun be called? If, for you, it is truly light, you need not be called.

“Out of darkness have I called my son.”

© Emissaries of Divine Light