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Before Sunday


As I snuggled my ruffle-covered newborn at church and enjoyed all the fixings of a meal made so much better by enjoying it with family, it suddenly occurred to me that I could not remember what we did for Easter last year. I asked my husband and he couldn’t either.

Thinking back on it, we had lost our son only a month earlier and I was so shell-shocked that I felt like I could barely make it through each day. And Easter felt like just another one to bear through.

It all made me wonder how the disciples felt before Sunday. Before they realized that this was all part of a much bigger plan. The death. The agony. The seeming senseless of it all.

Here was a group of men who had given up everything-careers, family, the comforts of home-to follow after Jesus. As they witnessed him calming the turbulent seas, opening blind eyes and even raising the dead, I imagine they were filled with such hope and promise for what the future might hold. Earthly positions. Eventual freedom from Roman rule. Perhaps the esteem of their fellow Jews.

And yet none of that was to be. In one day, all their plans, all their expectations, all their dreams were gone.

Jesus was dead. And suddenly, they were some of the most wanted men in Jerusalem.

At the end of last year I received Solomon’s death certificate in the mail. And as I looked over that certificate, I was overcome with a heavy wave of hopelessness.

There was just so much blank space. No spouse. No children. Never served in the armed services. And the list went on of all the life that he never got to live.

And I wondered then if the disciples felt the same way after Jesus’ death. Defeated. Confused. Hopeless.

But that was all before Sunday. Before they realized that the most unimaginable pain was actually all part of God’s greatest plan. Before they could truly call Friday “good.”

It’s so hard when you’re still on Friday. When all your eyes can see is the tragedy, all your ears can hear are the questions and all your mind can make sense of is the uncertainty of what life will look like now. When you’re in the middle of your Friday and you’re still stuck in the pain, it’s so hard to believe that there could be anything good that could come from it.

But let's not forget, Sunday is coming.

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© 2019 by Allison Brost

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