Sunday Always Comes

It’s Good Friday. When I was young, Good Friday always seemed sad, so I couldn’t understand why anyone would call it ‘Good’ Friday. As I got older, I came to understand that the ‘Good’ part of Friday really had everything to do with Sunday; if Sunday hadn’t come, it would certainly be Black Friday. Years ago, when Mel Gibson’s ‘The Passion of the Christ’ came out, our younger four kids weren’t old enough to handle the violence, so they never saw it. This year, I thought it appropriate that they watch it, so we spent Palm Sunday evening together in front of the television.

One of the themes that struck me this time was that when Jesus’ family and His followers trudged up the hill to witness His grueling death, they had no idea that He would return again. There were times He spoke of a future with Him, but even when I read it 2000 years later and know the ending, I’m not sure I would have really understood that He meant He would actually walk amongst them 3 days later, fully resurrected. When I watched it last week, I imagined myself as Jesus’ mother ~ horrified by the suffering that He endured ~ and left with so many unanswered questions. I probably would have re-played every conversation that I had with him over and over in my mind; and I wonder if she thought it was better to have known Him for his short 33 years, or if it hurt too much to let Him go and she wished she had never been chosen to give birth to Him in the first place. All I know is that when they placed Him in that tomb, I am certain that had to be the darkest moment of her life. He brought life to so many, and there He was…dead in a tomb.

I’ve been there metaphorically a time or two in my life. After a valiant effort through a battle that left me physically and emotionally exhausted, I accepted apparent defeat, only to find out that I was in the middle of a resurrection weekend of sorts. I think about how Mary probably went back to the tomb Saturday morning, still raw from the haunting events of Friday, and on Saturday she probably began to let her true feelings sink in, slowly accepting that it was over. By Saturday night she no doubt started thinking about the rest of her life, an empty pit in her gut that would probably be with her for the rest of her days…  

UNTIL SUNDAY! He overcame it all on Sunday. Satan was defeated, afterall. The questions and doubts and uncertainties that swirled around her brain were all put to rest on Sunday. In some of my own dark moments, it seemed like God wanted me to get to that place of total surrender and acceptance, so He could whip in with a resurrection of sorts. My eyes were again opened to the fact that He is indeed God, and His ways are indeed much better than my ways, and more importantly, He WILL always be victorious!

No matter what you’re going through; if it’s Friday afternoon, or late Saturday evening of your dark circumstances, you can rest assured that Sunday ALWAYS comes. He’ll never fail you. Just don’t give up hope.

Happy Easter!    



  1. Maureen Shank says:

    Beautiful feelings of Easter! I loved it. Please keep me in your prayers….hurt my knee and my doctor says I may have a torn miniscus, which may require surgery. I love you so much. please keep in contact.
    All my love,

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