Tag Archive | good friday

Waiting and wondering on Easter Saturday

Easter Saturday – or Holy Saturday – is that in-between time. The worst has happened. Jesus has been crucified. The hopes of many have been dasheIMG_6347d. The disciples are confused, disappointed and frightened. They retreat behind closed doors and withdraw into their fear, scared to look ahead, afraid to hope.

The two disciples who walked along the road to Emmaus were walking the long way home from Jerusalem to Emmaus, talking about all that had happened in Jerusalem on Good Friday. They were joined on the road by a Stranger, who wanted to know what they were talking about. Surprised that he didn’t know – wasn’t it the talk of the town? – they told him that Jesus had been crucified. They confessed, ‘But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel’.

The One they had put their trust in had disappointed them. They were confused and disappointed and were retreating – going back home. They didn’t understand what had happened. Things hadn’t turned out as they had hoped. Had they been wrong all along? Confusion and disappointment ate at their broken spirits and their hopes were dashed. They must have wondered what was going to happen next. Some of the women had said they had been to Jesus’ tomb but his body wasn’t there. They couldn’t work out what it all meant.

So the Stranger began to talk to them about the Scriptures. He explained their meaning as they walked that long way home. And – I love this part – when they reached their house, the Stranger ‘acted as if he were going farther, but they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.”’ He wasn’t going to impose – He never does – but always  waits to be invited.

And so it was that, in the breaking and blessing of the bread, they recognised the Stranger. Was it his hands as he broke the bread? Was it his voice as he blessed it? And just as suddenly as he had appeared, he vanished.broken bread

But it was enough. They knew who he was. They knew what he had been talking about. Now it all began to make sense. They said to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?” And immediately they set out to return to Jerusalem to share the good news.

We live between the ‘now’ and ‘what is yet to be’. We have put our faith in God but so much of what we read in the Bible belongs to the ‘what is yet to be’. Our lives are often filled with disappointment. Our hopes are dashed. Often we are confused; often we are frightened. Sometimes we don’t dare to look forward. Sometimes we are afraid to hope.

Some of us have hopes that have been dashed. Life hasn’t turned out the way we had hoped it would. We are struggling with broken health or broken relationships or some other loss. Some struggle with the loss of mental health. For them, just to get out of bed in the morning is a huge act of faith – a heroic thing. What they had hoped for hasn’t happened. Can they dare to hope?

Some of us have questions related to our faith that make us afraid to hope. It’s all too good to be true. What if it’s all a lie? Can we really base our lives on it? Does it really work? Does it make sense? Our faith is wavering. Can we dare to hope?

We all live in a broken world, a terribly frightening world. We don’t know what’s going to happen next. It doesn’t make sense. Can we dare to hope?

As we wait and as we wonder, let’s give the Stranger time to draw alongside us. He won’t impose but, if he’s invited, he will come. Things might begin to make some sense. And even if they don’t, the presence of the Stranger will bless us in our brokenness.

Good Friday and the darkness we don’t like to talk about

What’s good about Good Friday? There’s so much negative stuff going on – betrayal, denial, lies, deceit, anger, hatred, jealousy, anguish, pain, death.IMG_0961 - Version 2

We remember the fact that Jesus’ disciples forsook him and fled, the fact that Peter denied him and Judas sold him, the fact that the authorities believed the false witness against him, the fact that Pilate washed his hands of him, the fact that he died the most painful, shameful death known at that time.

Many of us sit uncomfortably between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, anxious to get to the glorious hope which the resurrection bring to us. We don’t like the time in between. We run from the negative stuff – the betrayal, denial, lies, deceit, anger, hatred. jealousy, anguish, pain, death. We would much rather rejoice and celebrate in the victory which Sunday brings.

But it’s Friday. And sometimes it’s good for us to linger here for a while among the negative stuff. Why are we so afraid of it when it is so much a part of the biblical story? I see it again and again – I’m sure you do too. Some people like to hear me talk about my depression because it gives them a voice too – but others are uncomfortable with it. Why dwell on the negative stuff? Why look back at the pain? Why talk about the darkness? Because that’s where many are living today.

I see it when people ask how my dad is. Remembered by many as a man who loved God’s Word and preached it round N.Ireland, today he is in a nursing home, struck by a form of dementia which has mostly robbed him of the gift of coherent speech, among other things. When people ask how he is and I tell them, some will quickly say ‘Well, at least he’s content’ and sometimes I tell them no, I don’t think he is. And I want to cry, ‘Would you be content? Would I?’ But I see the look on their faces – the pain at having to process that, the not knowing what to do with it, the not having a category to put it in. This is not how it’s supposed to be.

And they are right – this is not how it’s supposed to be. God never intended us to have a world with depression and dementia and death in it. So we don’t have to pretend he did. We don’t have to pretend it’s alright – because it isn’t.

Good Friday is Good Friday, not because there’s anything good about any of this, but because out of the darkness and shame and pain and death, there actually is a glimmer of hope. Jesus takes on himself all of our pain and shame so that we we know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he understands it all – there is nowhere we have been that he hasn’t been; and in taking it all on himself, he redeems it and by a miracle of grace transforms it into something good and beautiful and true.

So that on Easter Sunday there is something wonderful to celebrate – Jesus has conquered sin and death forever. The fact that Jesus rose again means that we will rise again too.

Everybody dies in Adam; everybody comes alive in Christ. But we have to wait our turn: Christ is first, then those with him at his Coming, the grand consummation when, after crushing the opposition, he hands over his kingdom to God the Father. He won’t let up until the last enemy is down—and the very last enemy is death!  I Corinthians 15.

We are not there yet – we still live in Good Friday a lot of the time, among the shadows and the darkness and the pain. But Jesus has won the war and, as Paul Tripp says, he is ‘still doing his sin-defeating work’. He is still in control. He is reigning even when it looks like he’s not. And he understands the pain and darkness of Good Friday. Because he’s been there.