Your Sunday is Coming

When Jon broke up with me, I could feel it in my chest; this weight interfering with the natural rhythms.  I was filled with sorrow and considered the damage done irreparable.  To my juvenile eyes it seemed a perfect love and it could never be perfect again.  In the midst of my grief, it appeared to me that there was no point in hope, because nothing, not even Jon attempting to reverse what he had done, would return me to a perfect state of trust and love.  I feared I could not love him wholly were he to admit his mistake.  More than losing him, my suffering was caused from losing hope in what I had believed to be true.

For those of you who have read the beginnings of this blog, you know the ending of this story.  All was not lost.  From one of the hardest points of my life, God created a beautiful storyline that involved God strengthening my Christian walk so that I could assist Jon in his journey.  Had Jon and I stayed together, I know we would be weaker individuals than we are today.

No one likes a spoiler to a good story.  We like to ease into the plot, get familiar with the characters, experience the emotions of their struggle and perseverance, and find ourselves pleasantly surprised at the end.  Having grown up in the church, I have always known the "ending" (really, is it not the beginning?) of the story of Jesus.  He died on the cross, was buried and rose again.  So simply put and knowing the ending at the beginning of the story prohibits a full contemplation of the struggle.

It's Saturday.  Jesus died yesterday.  His disciples had left homes and families to follow Him.  They had watched His ministry grow.  They had witnessed His miracles.  They saw Lazarus and others raised from the dead.  They had called Him the Messiah.

It's Saturday.  He is dead and they are scared.  Though they had witnessed the dead rise to life at the power of their Teacher, they cannot consider anything but that His death is final.  No logic can justify hope.  Jesus is dead.  They had watched Him escape murderous crowds, but Thursday night He gave Himself over to them.  Did Jesus just give up?  He was a man of power and miracles and He is dead.

It's Saturday.  Mary has never known sorrow like this.  And fear.  She had brought forth a baby though she was a virgin and had heard the promise from an angel that His kingdom would have no end.  But He is dead.  Did you lie, God?  Did I misunderstand?  Did you desert us?  She wonders at a faith that had been built by partaking in miracles, but the Miracle is dead.

You and I know that all was not lost on Saturday.  Sunday was coming.  But that Saturday must have seemed like the most hopeless day in all history.  He was dead.  They had treated His body with spices for burial and laid Him in a tomb.  Logic could not lead them to hope.

But it doesn't have to be logical, does it?  "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him." 1 Corinthians 1:26.  He is the God of things inconceivable, the God of things not hoped for.

Perhaps you are in the midst of a Saturday, left without any hope.  He is the God for the hopeless.  Your mind cannot conceive, but His can.  Logic will not lead you there, but He will.  It's Saturday.  Yes, but your Sunday is coming.