Waiting in the silence for Sunday

The Journey:Daily Meditations for Lent, John Pritchard, 2014

‘It’s Friday but Sunday’s coming!’ It’s all over social media today. It’s Good Friday, I get it. Of course I do. Don’t worry, this is not the end. We know what’s going to happen. We've read the last page, the ending is amazing and we’re going to cry tears of joy, not grief. Hold on because Sunday is coming!

The Christian life can only be lived because of this hope. Resurrection is coming!

However, are we skipping pages and jumping ahead because we don’t want to feel the emptiness and sadness in the chapter before the end. Are we avoiding being present because today is too difficult? We find it too awful to see agony wracking the body, mind and soul of a man who has done nothing but love this world. Only ever loved us.

Jesus’ disciples, his followers, his family didn’t get to skip the hard bit. They didn't get to avoid the pain. They had no idea what was going to happen. They had to live through the rest of today and all of tomorrow before Sunday dawned and everything dramatically changed.  

I’m wondering whether maybe we need to sit here in the silence today beside the body of Jesus. When he gives up his spirit into his Father’s hands and sighs his last breath, do we feel the earth shake beneath us and hear rocks split? Do we feel the darkness wrap around us, cutting out all light?

It is with heavy hearts and reticent feet that we walk through today and tomorrow but if we do not experience death in the death of Jesus, we cannot celebrate on Sunday. We only reach Easter morning by living through Good Friday and Easter Saturday. 

and so we wait in the silence. 

‘As soon as the wood was silent again Susan and Lucy crept out into the open hill-top. The moon was getting low and thin clouds were passing across her, but still they could see the shape of the Lion lying dead in his bonds. And down they both knelt in the wet grass and kissed his cold face and stroked his beautiful fur - what was left of it – and cried till they could cry no more. And then they looked at each other and held each other’s hand for mere loneliness and cried again; and then again were silent.’

The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.’ C S Lewis