Spring has finally sprung. And one of my favorite holidays is just around the corner – Easter. Like many of you, the joy of Easter Sunday floods my soul. Between family traditions and the hope of the empty tomb, I just feel like shouting!
But a few years ago, the Lord reminded me of an important fact: We can’t have Sunday without Friday.
As a child (and unbeliever), Good Friday was an extra day off to prep for Easter weekend. In reality, as we all know, it is much more than that. It is a day to remember Gethsemane, the Via Dolorosa, and Golgotha. Because without them, you and I would be hopelessly lost…and hell-bound.
Years ago, I read a quote by Max Lucado that said:
“The battle is won. You may have thought it was won on Golgotha. It wasn’t. The final battle was won in Gethsemane. And the sign of conquest is Jesus at peace in the olive trees. For it was in the garden that he made his decision. He would rather go to hell for you than go to heaven without you.”
Before reading that, I never thought too much about Gethsemane. I mean, it was just a prayer, right?
Wrong.
It was where He decided to follow through with the horrendous events of that night.
Today, I would encourage you to take time and think about what that dark day must have felt like. Take a moment, pull out your Bible, and imagine what the world looked like on that somber day in Jerusalem.
Imagine. The townspeople are calling for His blood to be shed.
Are these not the same people who praised him mere days ago? The ones who laid their cloaks for him to walk upon?
“Give us Barabbas!” they shout. A criminal. They want a murderer freed instead of an innocent man.
Jesus remains silent. Pontius Pilate washes his hands of it.
The torture begins.
Imagine the sound of soldiers laughing as they beat him with the cat o’ nine tails. The sound of His skin ripping as they push him down the Via Dolorosa. His mother, wailing, follows her child to Golgotha.
There, His blood is dripping. It’s pouring. A crown of thorns is pushed through his skull.
Clank, clank, clank. Nails are hammered into our Savior’s body.
“Forgive them, they know not what they do!” He screams.
Imagine it, the soldiers gambling at his feet. A thief mocks him and says, “If you are the Son of God, save yourself.”
He’s pleading with His Father. “My God, My God. Why have you forsaken Me?” He knows His time is coming short. The Father turns His face away.
“IT IS FINISHED,” He cries.
The world is dark. The Son has become sin, filth, every lie, murder, and atrocious act.
Hope is gone.
The cross is empty – bloody and bare. All of hell revels in His defeat.
Imagine, soldiers are guarding his tomb.
Imagine, wondering if He was the One.
Imagine, living in a world where Friday was the end of the story.
But PRAISE GOD, Friday isn’t the end.
I was the thief, the soldier, the scoffer, and the sinner.
He did it for us.
Sunday is coming. Can you imagine?
Tetelestai.
O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?
(1 Corinthians 15:55)
