The town of Orange, Virginia, has a population of just over 5,000 people. But on a certain Saturday every year, it draws nearly that many attendees for one special event. Each spring, Orange Baptist Church transforms a 28-acre field on the edge of town into the site of a community-wide celebration—one that culminates with plastic eggs falling from the sky.

“It’s just like what it sounds like,” said Pastor Alan Miller. “We gather everybody in this big field… and right before the drop is about to happen, the helicopter arrives. People are excited about that.” This kind of gathering wouldn’t be possible on the church’s main campus, which is landlocked and sits within the town limits. So the event takes place on a separate piece of property the church purchased years ago just down the road—land that has since become central to both its ministry and its connection to the community.

“Years ago, we bought a beautiful piece of property out on the edge of town,” Miller said. “And we’d been dreaming about what we should do out there around Easter.” What began as a simple Easter egg hunt on that property has grown into something much larger. After an initial turnout of around 100 people, the idea took an unexpected turn.

“My wife usually has big ideas,” Miller said. “And she said, ‘What if we dropped the eggs from the sky?’” That idea—once met with raised eyebrows—quickly moved from dream to reality through a connection within the congregation.

“At first we thought, ‘Oh, we have pilots and people who own planes in our church—let’s ask them,’” said Mary Beth Miller, one of the event’s organizers. “But of course we learned that you cannot drop eggs from an airplane, because it does not hover.” But one church member reached out to a friend who flew helicopters—and the answer came back: yes. ‍‍

“He said he would do it for free,” she said. “And he’s done it for free every year.” Since then, the event has multiplied far beyond its early days. In 2024, attendance reached an estimated 4,000 to 5,000 people, with families traveling from across the region.

Before any eggs are dropped, children and families gather near the front to hear the Easter story. “We tell the story of the resurrection of Jesus and the good news that that is in our lives and the hope that that brings for our world today,” Alan Miller said.

“I get to tell them the story of who Jesus is and how he loves them and died for them and conquered death and is risen,” said Meg Camp, a professional storyteller and member of the congregation—the volunteer who often shares the story.

Even the mechanics of the event carry symbolic meaning. Because of safety concerns, the eggs dropped from the helicopter are empty—a detail organizers use as part of the message. “I use the opening of the empty egg to talk about the story as well,” Mary Beth Miller said, “that Jesus isn’t there on Easter morning because he’s alive.”

Beyond the excitement, the day is designed to be shared—not just with the community, but across churches. “We’re so blessed to have other community partners involved in this,” Alan Miller said. “Our town has an ecumenical spirit.”

That spirit is embodied in the participation of Orange Church of the Nazarene and its pastor, Pam Edelman, who sponsor a booth and lead activities like face painting and balloon animals. But Edelman had questions that first year.

“My initial thought was, that’s crazy—do you need to go that far by dropping eggs out of a helicopter to celebrate Easter?” she said. “But I thought, I’m going to go and check it out.” What she found changed her perspective.

“One of the first questions I asked was, is the gospel shared?” Edelman said. “And the answer was yes. That’s why I went—because I was glad that the gospel was getting shared and it wasn’t just about the eggs raining from the helicopter.”

After seeing the event firsthand—and hearing the message—her church became a regular partner.“Now most of our church looks forward to it,” she said. “We still do the balloon twisting, and then we’ve added face painting…whatever my people want to do.”

The collaboration has also challenged common assumptions about churches competing with one another. “The first year, I had a gentleman come up to me and ask really quietly, ‘Do they know you’re here?’” Edelman said. “He said, ‘Aren’t you guys competition?’”

Her response was simple: “No, we’re on the same team. We’re all for Jesus.”

That shared approach has helped shape the tone of the day, which extends far beyond the egg drop itself. Families often stay for hours, enjoying food, activities, and time together. “We just hope that people will stay and enjoy the afternoon,” Alan Miller said.

Longtime coordinator Brenda Morris sees the event’s impact in small, personal moments. “The little children… they’re just so precious and so thankful,” she said. “Just their smile makes me happy.”

Still, all who work with the egg drop are clear that the heart of the event isn’t the helicopter or even the size of the crowd.

“We don’t do the egg drop for show,” Mary Beth Miller said. “It’s to exemplify that life can be full and abundant and beautiful in Jesus.”

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