It's Coming

The calendar is telling me that April will be here any day, but the view from my window deceives me.

Nothing much is green or blooming.  The wind is biting like that of early January.  And more snow has fallen this week than has all winter.

They say spring began a little more than a week ago, but...

Where?

I can't see it.

When the grips of winter's bony fingers refuse to let go of our forecast, my memory becomes foggy, and I soon have forgotten what it's like to step on the patio after the sun has set, and the air is still warm.  When the smell of grilling hamburgers becomes a staple for the evening hours.  When sleeves become short, feet go bare, and the sun blaring through a set of drawn blinds is all the indoor light you'll need for the day.

The unveiling of spring can create anticipation in me like that of a night before a birthday, a Christmas Eve, when you know...

Something incredible is coming.

But here you are.  Stuck in the season before.  The day before.  The minute before.

This is the end of Holy Week.  We've observed Palm Sunday.  Maundy Thursday.  Good Friday.

But what about Saturday?

What about that day before?

We learn in each of the gospels that once Jesus is crucified on Friday--a process which lasted a mere six hours, as opposed to most crucifixions, which could last days--he is quickly removed from the cross and buried in a nearby tomb, just before sundown.

The next day, Saturday, was the Sabbath, and because it was a day of rest, Scripture is silent as to any events, thoughts, or feelings experienced during that period of waiting on the day before.

And quite frankly, it drives me nuts!

I'm dying to know how Mary felt as she waited for her Son to rise.

What Peter's thought process was as he ruminated his denial.

If, like when our hope of spring runs dry as the winter weather lingers, did they wonder if this was it?

Was Jesus really coming back?

Perhaps the cold reality of a crucified Savior scorned their hearts like a promise forgotten.  Perhaps their outlook was as bleak as a spring snowstorm.

Even as I look forlornly at the dreary sky, I know the sun will shine again.  I know the trees will bloom.  The weather will warm.

Spring will come.

And even as He remained in the grave on Saturday, surely those who knew Him, who believed Him, knew that Resurrection Day was upon them.

It's coming.

A snowflake can't dissipate the promise of spring.  A tomb couldn't bury the promise of His return.

It's coming.

The sun will set tonight, and the day before will end.

It's coming.

Those burial clothes won't stay on.

It's coming.

The Son will rise before the sun will rise.

He's coming!

Praise God for a Savior who didn't forget to return.  Who remembered you and me.

We're almost there.

Just a few more hours.

Something incredible is coming.

"He is not here; he is risen, just as he said." ~ Matthew 28:6