“Sunday is Coming!”


Again we come. The frozen landscape of winter solitude has yielded to a fresh, new season. Evidence is in the air. Birds share the news of the day as they busy themselves building nests to house their eggs of promise. Trees and flowers already show their own signs of promise with a hint of leaf and bud. All of nature is poised ready to paint the landscape in fresh rainbow shades.

I look down at the mat of brown at my feet. The dried wisps of winter grass are rapidly being pushed aside by eager sprouts ready to cover the landscape in crisp green. How refreshing to welcome a new season of life and beauty.

Where I stand now is our land, of sorts. Kicking, screaming, and flailing in protest we bought a piece of it. We had no choice. Someone we loved dearly ended his short life and needed a place to rest in Saturday’s death.


It is a quiet Saturday outside Jerusalem. The horrendous beatings, fake trials, shouting, and sobbing at the foot of the cross had all passed. Friends and family had lovingly laid the Son of God in a borrowed tomb. They would return after the Sabbath hours to embalm Him, as was their custom, but now was the time to mourn their loss. He had done what He came to do. Jesus had predicted that He would rise in three days, but in their grief those words had slipped from memory (John 2:19). He was their Son, their Master, their Lord, and now He was dead. Sunday was on its way. It would come right on time, just as Jesus had promised; but now it was Saturday, and it appeared to be never ending, stretching to eternity as far as they knew. How could they go on without Him?

Heaven had a different point of view. As gruesome as it must have been to watch The Plan stretch out before them, the excitement was building. The Father’s heart beat a little faster. The angels milled around the throne, obviously eager for the long-waited moment to arrive. Gabriel was at his post, keeping his eyes on the Father. It would be his most important assignment ever, and he was ready. Eternity’s clock ticked toward the appointed hour.

Inside the tomb, all was quiet. The Savior had completed His work of saving mankind, and He was resting from His labor. His trust had always been in His Dad, even to the cross. He was not ticking down time. He was sleeping the sleep of death (Psalm 90:5).

Now The Plan’s focus shifted heavenward and particularly to His Father’s throne. It was a nail biter. Gabriel tried not to “bug” his Maker with intent staring. He was eager to get going, but God would give the signal, right on time, and when He did, Gabriel would soar through the heavens moving faster than the speed of light. As the black of night gave way to the first hint of red, Gabriel flexed his rippling muscles in eager expectancy.

Then God spoke, “Go, Gabriel, go!” Gabriel took off like a shot, flying through the cosmos encased in the radiant beams from his Father’s face. Heaven hushed. No one dared make a sound. God leaned forward in eager anticipation. The angels leaned forward, too.

Gabriel ripped thru space trailed by lightning, breaking the sound barrier as he went. As his feet touched earth in front of Joseph’s tomb, the fiery brilliance of heavenly light temporarily blinded the Roman soldiers, standing guard at the tomb, and they crumpled to the ground as though dead. The earth trembled and rocked on its axis as a mighty earthquake shook awake many who were asleep in their graves.

Gabriel rolled back the sealed stone as it if were a pebble. In a voice that rumbled on earth, but was heard as the sweetest music in the throne room of heaven, Gabriel cried, “Jesus! Son of God! Wake up! Your Father calls You!”

Sunday had come! The bleak darkness of this horrific Saturday had passed forever from view, never to be repeated on the hill called Calvary; but it still repeats on Planet Earth.


Like other loved ones who remain to grieve, we added a pretty spring bouquet to the vase on our son’s grave. The colors were a plethora of pastel shades welcoming the new season, but there was no welcoming spirit of spring in our hearts. We looked down at the raised numbers in bronze, as if for the first time. Two dates and a dash are supposed to represent our son’s short life?

Wiping away the tears, we turned to leave. As we walked slowly away, we couldn’t help but notice the fresh mounds covered in cascades of funeral flowers reminding us that the cycle continues. Death follows life as it always has. Will it ever end? Will Saturday’s gloomy grip ever be broken? Yes! Sunday is coming!

And Sunday ~ whether it be Monday, Tuesday, or any other day of the week ~ will come! Relief is speeding toward us with the Deliverer slated to appear right on time! Jesus will return! He will wake up His sleeping children just as He promised!

The Creator of life broke the cycle of sin on the cross. Soon death will be no more. Eternity will begin! Families who have mourned many dark Saturdays will leave all their pain and sorrow behind when Eden is restored. Loved ones will embrace. Eternity will be our new forevermore!

“For God expressed His love for the world in this way: He gave His only Son so that whoever believes in Him will not face everlasting destruction, but will have everlasting life.  Here’s the point. God didn’t send His Son into the world to judge it; instead, He is here to rescue a world headed toward certain destruction.  No one who believes in Him has to fear condemnation, yet condemnation is already the reality for everyone who refuses to believe because they reject the name of the only Son of God.” John 3:16-18 

Scripture shared from The Voice, (VOICE)


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