Easter in the Dark: Our Family’s Traditions of Waiting and Wonder
Good Friday 2025
While our older kids can now choose their own church clothes and help hide eggs for the younger ones, Easter has become more than just a busy Sunday morning. Over the years, it has grown into a season of reflection in our home—a deliberate shift in focus toward the good news of the gospel.
Preparing Through Lent
We observe Lent through fasting, and each Sunday leading up to Easter, we light a candle—one for each of the six Sundays in Lent. On Easter morning, the seventh and final candle is lit in celebration.
Our practices have changed over time, but one thing has remained: we believe in the value of teaching our children to pause, to deny themselves for a time, and to cultivate a longing for something greater. Fasting becomes more than just giving something up—it becomes a way to wait with anticipation for Resurrection Sunday.
Good Friday Darkness
Since our kids have been old enough to understand, we’ve darkened our home on Good Friday starting at 3 p.m. We close the curtains, hang sheets over skylights, tape foil to windows—whatever it takes to block out the light. And we keep it that way until Sunday morning.
We often attend a Good Friday service, sometimes in the evening, so the darkness begins before or after that, depending on the year. Someone usually has to leave the house for work or another obligation, but we try to preserve the weight of that darkness as much as possible. There are no screens, no sweets, and only candles for light. The atmosphere feels heavy. With fewer distractions, our hearts are more exposed—and the sin that so often hides beneath ease and comfort begins to surface.
Sometimes we allow audiobooks, but more often the kids are left with their own thoughts, boredom, and—eventually—creativity. This final stretch of Lent becomes a quiet teacher, reminding us all just how deeply we need the forgiveness Easter brings.
The Gospel by Candlelight
Before bed, we light a single candle and lay together on the floor with our Bibles open. Each of us reads through the story of Easter from one of the Gospels, comparing details and discussing what we notice. The differences between these eyewitness accounts often spark deep and curious conversation—why one author emphasized a certain moment, why another left something out. These readings have become a sacred pause in the darkness, anchoring us in the truth of the resurrection and stirring our hearts with anticipation for what’s to come.
Resurrection Morning
Easter morning bursts in with light and music. As the kids come out of their rooms, we light all the candles in the house and play worship music—loud and joyful. After sitting in darkness for two days, we feel the gift of light deep in our bones. The whole morning becomes a celebration of the resurrection, from the moment they open their doors.
There are cinnamon rolls and too much candy, of course, but we’ve also woven Scripture into our traditions. One of our favorites is hiding eggs filled not just with treats, but with Bible trivia questions and coins. The questions all relate to the Easter story, and once the hunt is over, the kids crack open their eggs and turn to their Bibles to find the answers. They compare scores, trade coins, and sometimes correct each other’s memory.
Last year, I added Old Testament prophecy references. The kids had to look them up and explain how they pointed to Jesus. This year, we skipped the egg hunt entirely, and they answered nearly every question from memory. For the prophecies, I assigned each child a chapter and rewarded them with a coin every time they found and explained a messianic prophecy—then I’d assign a new one.
Later, we head to church for worship with our community, and when we return home, it’s out to the yard for cascarones and more candy. The whole day feels like a feast of joy and light—not because we’ve earned it after a season of darkness, but because grace has been poured out on us. After sitting in the shadows of our sin and longing, the light feels all the more radiant—not as a reward for endurance, but as an undeserved gift from the One who came with purpose, mercy, and love we could never deserve.
The Weight and the Wonder
These traditions aren’t about creating the “perfect” Easter—they’re about creating space. Space to feel the weight of sin, the ache of waiting, and the wonder of the resurrection.
Want to Try Something Similar?
You don’t have to do it all. Maybe just start by dimming the lights on Good Friday or picking one Bible verse to memorize as a family before Easter. The goal isn’t performance—it’s presence. And sometimes, presence comes most clearly when we’re sitting in the dark, waiting for the light to return.
