From Friday Comes Sunday

It's taken me awhile to face the blank screen, to try to put into words what last week meant to me, and what the past 40+ days imparted to my soul. I'm not sure I have the words, certainly not ones to do any of it any justice.

I can only say that this year's Good Friday was the "best" Good Friday ever...so rich with remembrance, and sharing it all with one of my sons made it all the more meaningful -- serving Communion to each other, breaking the matzo and hearing the "snap" pierce the air and our hearts, knowing that our sins pierced His heart so long ago. Hammering those sins onto a cross (and watching them burn the next night)...and then holding each other close while watching "The Passion of the Christ"...weeping together as we watched Mary pour her love out to her son in his final moments while she remembered playing with him as a young boy...Caleb whispering to me, "I always remember He had a mother, but forget He also had a Mama" as I clung to my now-man of a son, as both his mother and his Mama always.

Plumbing the depths of Good Friday only makes the joys of Easter more glorious, more rich, more majestic. We ushered in the day at midnight, holding candles and listening to Mahler's 2nd Symphony ("Resurrection") at a volume so loud I could practically feel the power of the Spirit rolling that stone away from the tomb all those years ago. Absolutely enthralling. Morning came quickly and we praised at the top of our lungs (with me banging at the piano in the dreaded key of E...ugh) and listened to a most beautiful sermon on brokenness and how we always have a choice --  to either walk down the pathway of despair (à la Judas) or humility (à la Peter). De-spair...without the Spirit...may it never be.

Then during lunch I had the wonderful experience of receiving someone's risk of vulnerability and what I thought was to be a quick meal turned into a lengthy and lovely and deep conversation, and I was changed for the good in hearing this person's story of loss, pain, and redemption.

We all have an Easter story to tell...things in our lives that need to be killed in order to rise again. God breathes life into lost dreams, restores broken relationships, brings new friends to us when old ones pass away or move on. He brings healing to our wounds, applying the warm oil of His comfort to the scars that often burn or itch along the way. He brings beauty out of ashes, praise out of mourning, good out of evil, light out of darkness, life out of death.

I pray I remember this down the road when the fire of last week's experiences  dwindles to faint embers:

Out of Good Friday always comes Easter.