But today is Friday.
Even though my lips would rather sing and rejoice, my soul must mourn and grieve.
I remember Jesus.
Eating His last meal.
Breaking the bread.
Pouring the wine.
Instructing them to remember Him.
Washing their feet.
Agonizing in prayer.
Arrested in the night.
Accused, beaten, bloodied.
Before I can celebrate His resurrection, I have to consider His death.
His brutal, necessary death. On that infamous cross.
Every morning I wake up, I see this on my bedroom wall.
For me, for you. To save us sinners from ourselves.
Not on a fancy, scrolly, ornate cross, but a massive, splintered tool of execution.
The encompassing darkness of death. Then...the illuminating light of eternal life.
Temporary, hushed hopelessness. Then...the resounding promise of forever.
Significant, remarkable loss. Then...triumphant, victorious gain.
The weight of unbearable agony. Then...the weight of unparalleled glory.
Don't run ahead. Go there.
Sit in the horror-filled, blackness of Friday.
Ponder the Lamb led to slaughter.
Marvel at the humble obedience to His Father.
Be engulfed. Be overwhelmed by His relentless, persistent love.
Yes! Praise the Father that Sunday's coming.
Today is Friday.