Friday, 25 March 2016

It's Friday. But Sunday's coming.

It's Friday. But Sunday's coming.

These few words have been floating through my mind since I woke up this morning. Good Friday has always felt a little different from all the other days of the year, and this year was no different. Amid all the 'noise' this world offers, we hope for a new beginning...for new life...for the eternal Sunday that will be when Jesus returns.

It's Friday. But Sunday's coming.


While preparing to start my day, I glanced at the news feed on my phone. I was reminded of the brokenness that we all endure on level or another - whether personally, communally, or globally.

Rob Ford.
Brussels.
Jian Ghomeshi.
Ice Storm.
Parkinson's Disease.
Zika Virus.
Refugees.
Food insecurity.
Unemployment.

It's Friday. But Sunday's coming.

This morning's service gave me another opportunity to feel Jesus' presence. I had an opportunity to participate in the Lord's Supper - or Holy Communion - in a way I've never done before. I was a 'cup bearer' - meaning I held the cup containing juice, which participants dipped their piece of bread into before eating. While they dipped their bread, I was to say to each guest, "The blood of Christ shed for you."

The blood of Christ shed for you, Wilfred.
The blood of Christ  shed  for you, Rudy.
The blood of Christ shed for you, Harrison.
The blood of Christ shed  for you, Jane.

I would have liked to have added:

It's Friday. But Sunday's coming.

The blood of Christ shed for you, Sonja.
The blood of Christ shed for you, Darlene.
The blood of Christ shed for you, Elliot.
The blood of Christ shed for you, Allan.

It's Friday. But Sunday's coming.

The blood of Christ shed for me.
The blood of Christ shed for you.

Did you hear that faint rumble? No, it's not the ice falling from tree limbs and roof tops, it's the angels preparing to roll the stone away from Jesus' grave.

It's Friday.

Sunday's coming.



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