The Darkest of Days

I can imagine that time stood still that day. The darkness that overcame the land, the earth trembling, heaving, in agony with it’s Creator.  The sorrow, the despair, the darkness in man’s soul matching the sky.  A body broken.  Weeping at the foot of a cross, as those in the background continued to mock and laugh.

Who among us does not understand grief, doesn’t know the ache that happens in the marrow of your bones when one you love dies? That weariness, that utter despair that gnaws, that exhausts? Weak, we can fall to our knees, crying out, cursing, broken.

And yet, we are an Easter people. We understand that there is hope, that there is more than what we see. We know despair, but we also know hope.

There was no hope that Friday, as the sky turned black. With his death came despair like the world had never known. Those who had pinned their hopes on this man floundered, unsure of what his death meant.  They fled, scared for their own lives. They scattered, hiding, weeping.

We tend to rush past Good Friday, in anticipation of Easter Sunday. How much more exciting it is to focus on the joy of the resurrection rather than the despair of death. And yet, death is what precedes life. Our joy cannot be fully complete without first knowing the pain of loss. As Christians, it is my belief that we need to have a grasp on understanding the pain, the agony, that Christ went through, in our appreciation of what He endured for you and me. We can’t sugar-coat the ugliness of His suffering, His death, because it pains us to think about. It should pain us to think about it, it should cause us grief.

It should create in us an awe and appreciation that we are worthy of such a gift.

Not for anything that we have done. Or haven’t done. But we are worthy because He made us so. Worthy of a gift that is priceless. A gift given freely. But a gift of great cost.

We are an Easter people. We live in the joy and the glory that knows a Savior, that understands that death is not the end.

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