Today it is quiet. No bunnies hopping around depositing chocolate Easter eggs. Few families gathered around a table laden with luscious goodies and fancy confections. Today is the day for rest, because yesterday was a day filled with trauma, and anyway, God in His infinite wisdom had set it up that way.
No one really believed He would die and then live again. No one ever had without His touch and he would be unavailable, gone. Hasn't it always been that death is final? Friday's old wooden cross, a crown of thorns, scourging, humiliation and a spear in his side. Weeping, repenting, sadness and gloom. And upon the old rugged cross, he forgave us all, and died.
Carried to the tomb, anointed with chosen oils and wrapped in the cloths of those who would decay, the stone was rolled across the tomb, and slowly the mourners left for home.
Now, today was the day to hold each other, to mourn their loss, to go nowhere and do nothing, except perhaps to the temple, because after all, it was the Sabbath day.

Amazing isn't it? Come Sunday morning, Mary goes to the tomb to weep, and maybe to hope, and the risen Savior appears to her, not in a dream but in solid flesh and bone. She sees the holes in his hands. the burial cloths are strewn about, and she hears His comforting voice call her by name; Mary, the forgiven Prostitute. And he bids her to go tell Peter - the hasty, fearful one who betrayed him. Jesus, who holds no grudge and loves without question, seeks to remove shame as His first act of redemption.
Good Friday is a day for worship of the crucified Christ. It certainly was good for me, because this trauma saves my soul. Sunday is a day for Hosannas and praise, because Christ no longer sleeps in death, but is awake to my every pain, to my need.
Centuries later too, today is a day for rest and perhaps for a bit of preparation of heart - for tomorrow we sing and dance for joy. He is risen! My only Hope has paid the price for me, and I am free!
