This morning I heard Eve ask her Daddy if she could wear her “Easter” dress today, which, mind you, is really just a very colorfully striped long sweater. At least we’re taking things up a notch from pajamas. His response was simply, “No, love, it’s just Saturday.”
Just Saturday.
We tuned into a Good Friday service last night once we tucked our little ones into bed, and I loved where the talk had us shifting our mindset, hearing something to the effect of, You won’t be able to experience Sunday if you don’t face Friday.
Yes Friday is indeed called good because we are on the other side of Sunday, and all that our Creator suffered was made beautiful in that He did what we couldn’t do, and became what we couldn’t become, sealing it on the premise of a risen life. Yet Friday- when it was just Friday, when Sunday hadn’t yet shown itself – Friday was fear filled and devastating, and hopeless, and full of doubt. I have experienced Fridays, and I am sure, rather, I know, that you have too.
So let’s just skip to Sunday!
Except not. Because there’s still Saturday. We already hit rock bottom a day ago. The newness of brokenness, where we scarcely had the emotional capacity to understand what just happened, starts to lean towards a wondering as to whether this will be the new normal. Or worse yet, worry begins to take over hope. On Friday, we may not think extensively about the future, because we are overwrought with what is in front of us. But on Saturday, we can’t get the future out of our heads and all the ways we should fear it.
On Friday, Jesus’ followers watched the man they had called God’s Son die.
On Saturday, they feared for their lives.
On Friday, you said goodbye to a loved one.
On Saturday, you began a life lived without them.
On Friday, you lost your job.
On Saturday, you stared at a bill that you can’t pay.
On Friday, you received test results.
On Saturday, you began round eight of chemo treatments.
The thing about Saturday is that it solidifies Friday, and the weight you felt in that moment turns to waiting for a way out. Saturdays are not one day. They are several days, or weeks, or months, or years, or even an entire lifetime.
Fridays may indicate the moments of greatest heartache, but we don’t live there daily. We don’t live daily in the news of a loved one lost or a spreading coronavirus. We live in the aftermath. We live in Saturday. Overwhelmed by loneliness. Fearful of the future. Insecure in the unknown. Burdened by our children. Grumbling about our work. Discontent with what we own. Waiting for the perfect relationship to thrive. The perfect state to call home. The perfect job to satiate our wants.
I’ve lived in Saturday with you. Even thought I have the viewpoint of Sunday.
Here’s the thing. Better yet. Here’s the truth.
We don’t need to sit in the waiting any longer. There is nothing that happened on Friday that Sunday has not accounted for. There is nothing that was lost on Friday that Sunday cannot bring back to life. There is nothing that broke on Friday that Sunday cannot piece together. There is nothing that you did on Friday that Sunday cannot rescue. There is nothing the world did to you on Friday that Sunday cannot bring to justice.
We may still have the circumstances of Friday, but we don’t need to live in Saturday any longer.
It’s time to rest in Sunday.
EXPOSITION: In which day are you living?
RISE: Live in Sunday.
DENOUEMENT: I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. -Jesus