Our church had a “Good Friday” service this year, and it happened to coincide with my husband’s longest business trip in almost three years. He left early on Sunday morning, and won’t be back until late Saturday night, and though the week has gone well—the kids have been well-behaved overall, we’ve spent a lot of fun time together, and nothing serious has gone wrong—by Friday I hit the point of emotional exhaustion. My heart was so, so lonely, and I was tired of holding it all together and handling so much on my own. I almost didn’t go to the service, I was so depleted, but it was the first Good Friday service our church had done, and I wanted to be part of it. Plus I was honestly very swayed by the thought of having someone else watch at least my youngest (and at the moment, most challenging) child, and knowing I would have a little extra adult interaction after six days of "solo parenting". If my husband’s intense travel has taught me one thing, it’s to always take advantage of a chance to be with other grown-ups! So my equally tired kids and I all drove to church and filed inside, where one of the sweet teenagers gleefully took my toddler from me and brought him to the church nursery while I helped a visiting friend and her kids get settled.
The service was very good—I was encouraged by the music and inspired by the video they shared, and definitely felt "filled up" by the time with fellow believers. The thing that struck me the most, though, was something our pastor kept repeating throughout the message: "Sunday is coming. Today is Friday…but Sunday is coming." He was talking about the grief, pain, and what appeared to be defeat that Good Friday held for the disciples and all who followed Jesus. Here was the Messiah and Savior that the people had waited centuries for, and who was supposed to rescue them and free them from all of their problems. But now, He was gone. Jesus was tortured, hung on a cross, killed, and then set in a tomb…and that seemed to be the end. We know, of course, that there was more to the story, and that in three days He rose again. Sunday came, and with it all of the joy and hope and victory of Easter. But the disciples didn’t know that. To them, Friday was the end.
Like those disciples, I feel the weight and pain of “Friday” myself. My husband’s travel season is hard--I miss him, and I often feel lonely and overwhelmed—but more than that, I’m reeling from an overall time of grief and loss. It has been a rough several months, and I have so many questions, and so much hurt, and not a lot of answers or healing yet. I am very much in a “Friday” season, stuck with those first Christ-followers in grieving what I’ve longed for and lost, and wondering how I’m supposed to keep moving forward when things look so very hard.
But…Sunday is coming.
Friday isn’t the end. Sometimes it seems like Sunday will never arrive, but it did back then for the disciples, and it always will for all who follow Jesus. Jesus rose again; He overcame death; He won the victory. And more than that, He is going to return for all of His people. He is going to deliver us and take us Home with Him where there is no more loss and grief; where we never have to say goodbye to loved ones, or lose companions; where we won’t have unanswered questions and will understand everything perfectly.
As I write this, it’s Saturday. My husband isn’t home yet, and Easter isn’t here yet. I am right in the middle of waiting for both temporary relief and comfort from a lonely and challenging season, and also a time of celebrating my eternal redemption and rescue from every hard, painful thing. My heart is still aching; I am weary and lonely; and I am dreading the road ahead.
But, I also know Sunday is coming. That means that although I don’t understand now, someday I will; although right now I am filled with grief, someday there will be joy; although right now I feel intense loss, someday there will be victory; and although right now I can’t see how things could ever turn out ok, someday they really will—more than I can even hope or imagine.
So, friends, if you’re like me, sitting with the disciples on that Friday feeling defeated, hopeless, and unsure of how to move forward, repeat after me:
Friday isn't forever.
Sunday is coming.
It really is.
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