Hello dear readers,
I got a note from one reader that made me think that yesterday’s post was – depressing. I had some beta readers test read it for me, and no one flagged it for me, although I did think they were holding something back from me. So with that in mind, I wanted to apologize if in fact the tone was depressing. Maybe the snippets of life were too real. What I wanted to do was say that if you are in a similar season, God is with you. I wanted to encourage you to bring your whole self to Him for healing, because nothing is too heavy or hard for Him.
As it pertains to the cross and Easter, I wrote a story the other day, and when I sat down to write, I wanted to think about what if you were in a season of dying like Christ. Something entirely different came out of that writing session, but now, I will talk about it in a different way.
Friday living
Pertaining to Easter, Friday is the day Jesus was turned over to the guards, put on trial, and subsequently, crucified. I am living the Friday kind of life right now. Life is heavy and trials are hard, and I am dying. Not too many understand, and yet many do. I have lived the Friday life before, and because I have, I know that Sunday is coming. I know that one day soon, new life will spring forth, and I will look back at this season and marvel at it, at the miracle that it was, and it will be a testimony to my Savior’s work and completion in me. This means, however, that my writing may be yucky. It certainly does not feel good at times. It will be intermingled with grief at times, as this season is one of grief. I am not afraid of the work Jesus is doing in me and the grief I am experiencing, though my writing is, I feel, at its worst and is wandering around and for that, to you, my readers, I apologize. It may mean a death in my writing too. And my writing very likely will change and go a new direction. As I do not want to depress you, you are always free to come and go as you need. Having you come alongside my journey by reading is a thanks I wish I could express, so let these words be a hug, as I sincerely wish I could see you face to face and tell you how much you mean to me. But, it is my sincere hope that my writing blesses you in the way that you bless me.
Saturday living
However, I see my Jesus in the Saturday part of the Easter story. It was Saturday that while the disciples grieved, Jesus was doing some of His greatest work. We don’t really know what He did on Saturday – whether He descended to hell, was merely dead, or what went down. It is a mystery to us. The work He did though, ultimately defeated death, set captives free, and made Him and me and you alive again. Whole, seated at the right hand of God in the heavenly places. Jesus is doing His greatest work in me right now as I lay dying. I have seen this work before in me, and this time, I can set my hope on the coming Sunday. I can still yield to Him, surrender the deaths I need to die, and know that hope is still mine to offer. It is quiet, a holy hush, and some people in the Saturday days don’t know if Sunday will come. Can you imagine how wretched the disciples must have felt, not knowing if anything would happen on Sunday, if their Savior would ever be seen again? It would have been a holy despair, despite how often Jesus, Himself, told them multiple times that on the third day, He would live. On Saturday, the words, the Scriptures must have felt empty and dead. I have friends living in Saturday – friends who’ve questioned like Peter if Jesus is really there, if hope is dead, and they wait for Sunday. For those who have never lived Saturday lives, Sunday seems a long way away. But Sunday comes.
Sunday living
Only a few short years ago, I was living the Sunday life. Honestly, I assumed, rather wrongly, that life could be all Sundays once I’d found it, but sometimes the flesh still needs to die, and new works need to be done, and Sunday living turns into Thursday and Friday living again. Glory be when Sunday comes forever.
Easter living
Because I have experienced Friday, Saturday, and Sunday living, I can ring the bells of hope amidst my own death.
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