Patiently Waiting for Sunday

Friday is past, and Sunday is coming, but today, we are stuck in Saturday. Friday is known as Good Friday and Sunday is called Easter, but there is no name for this purgatory where we linger now. Friday was a day of death, of loss and grieving, a day of gloom, while Sunday is a day of victory and triumph. But what is this world in between? This Saturday that has gone on for centuries, when will this sun finally set? Friday can be called Good simply because the sun must eventually set on Saturday, to rise again on Blessed Sunday, Easter, Resurrection Day.

But today has no name, no recognition, no place in history. It is the in between day where time stopped altogether. Heads hung low as we walked away from Golgotha, and the sky has grown dark since the curtain tore. Journeys that began Friday evening have led down paths of hurt. Quests for something better have ended in futility. It is a quest for Sunday while traveling in Saturday. There is now weeping and gnashing of teeth. Man and woman have been handed over to their sinful desires. Saturday is a day of glossy-eyed travelers wandering aimlessly, disillusioned by the death the night before. It is a day of searching for sense and reason, grasping for hope and purpose, seeking truth. It is a day of tears and hurt. This land has become Satan's playground, with God's children as his playmates. All of hell roars in celebration, believing that the One who was to save the world died a humiliating death on a tree. Heaven was defeated as the powerful God perished at the hands of man. He was nailed to a Roman cross as the very ones He created cheered it on. Saturday occurred in the aftermath of Friday's victory for the worldly kingdom.

But Sunday has not yet come.

All of God's family suffers as the demons of hell celebrate a seeming victory. Paths are distorted and journeys are led astray. Separation of the created from the Creator grows deeper. But the rejoicing of this short-lived victory will soon end. Evil will be silenced once and for all when Sunday comes.

Sunday is coming.

The rays of light will break the dark horizon and the cacophony from below will be muffled as the stone is rolled away. Dark eyes and hateful hearts will gaze in fear and wonder as the long awaited Light shatters the obscurity of the land, piercing through all that was once hidden and concealed. Voices of laughter and godless chatter will cease to utter more; they will tremble in horror as they see the One whose death was celebrated, standing in power and glory before them. Was He not dead?

All sounds from Saturday will be hushed in terror as an eruption from Heaven will fill this starving land. A flood of song and praise will wash over thirsty hearts, quenching what could not be satisfied before. As this blaze of glory brings in the new day, the angels and cherubims will make their triumphant race across the earth, reclaiming the broken-hearted and returning the sheep to God's flock. Tears will be dried and hearts will be restored. Those who had wept on Friday and endured Saturday will roar with victory as the sun begins to rise on Sunday…as the Everlasting Son rises on Sunday. The sick will be healed, the hungry will be fed, the outcast and persecuted will be welcomed and given rest. The Kingdom of God will be restored in all its righteousness.

Friday is past and Saturday seems endless, but the moon is soon to rise, laying out the red carpet for the new sun, for the Everlasting Son.

Patiently waiting for Sunday.

Happy Easter, friends.