I remember reading a book as a teen entitled ‘It’s Friday, but Sunday’s Comin’ (in true eighties cool teen speak.) I recall something about the truism that some Christians concentrate overly on the Friday bit and not enough on the Sunday, but without the Sunday the Friday would be pretty pointless. Without the empty tomb, this faith would have no power, no promise, no hope. But I believe in the empty tomb. I believe in the Sunday and I believe in hope.
On a day like today, Good Friday 2011, for example. Today I am finding breathing a drag, and am not being the most patient of mums or giving of wives, because breathing hurts, and I want it to stop really. I’ve had a few fearful moments today, but have in the midst of that been drawn to the mystery and greatness of what this day is all about. We Messy Churched this morning, and Adventure Bloke spoke about eggs and stones. Stones being by nature somewhat dead, cold objects, and then eggs looking like stones from the outside but symbolising new life and hope. Linking to the empty tomb and All That. Something struck me in that moment. About what I believe. It seems like the most way out, mad belief really, if you stop to think. Someone back from the dead? Hmmm. How could any rational person believe that? Not going into a hugely lengthy treatise on why I believe what I do, suffice to say I do, and all I experience in day to day life, despite that tricky little breathing problem, is bound up within that belief, is liberating, is compelling, is awesome. Something about this day takes me above the aggravations of how I feel and into the mystery of what God has done and how much God loves. Friday is good. And Sunday even better. I can’t wait.