There is a great message by Tony Campolo about an old preacher who built the most amazing sermon ever on the phrase, "It's Friday. But Sunday's Coming". The phrase has been running through my mind for days now. It is a very Lenten concept.
In my faith tradition, Friday represents the dark day when it appears that God has turned his back on the world. The day when grief and loss seems too heavy, too hard to endure. Of course, the image comes from the day Jesus died and all the world thought he was gone forever, a tragic ending to a promising life. In the two millenia since then, Friday has come to every soul who walks this earth. For some who can't see that Sunday is coming, Friday sets in with a vengeance and steals their will to live. For many, Friday drags on, sapping their energy, raiding their stores of resilience and leaving them broken. But the message that Tony Campolo reminds us of, is that broken is a not a permanent condition. Broken is not the last word.
I know many who are grieving right now. Maybe it is the time my life, but I know so many who are struggling hard to keep their heads above water. For all of us living in Friday, for all of us putting one foot in front of the other, taking another breath because that is what the body demands, I pray that the light of hope will ease the way. It is hope that feeds the human spirit. It is Friday, but Sunday's coming.
All the world waits in the pain of sorrow for the day when there will be no more sadness. Thankfully, we don't have to wish for the end of the world, for the end of time, to experience Sunday. Sunday comes in little snatches, little glimmers of the promise. Sunday comes in the laughter of a child, the eyes of our dog, the hug from a loved one. Sunday comes in glorious music, poetry, and art. It comes in the kind word from a stranger, the willing hands of a caregiver.
The old phrase, "This, too, shall pass" has been on my mind for a while. But I'm replacing it with the more active, "It's Friday. But Sunday's coming." Waiting for something to pass is too powerless. Too passive. But living out Friday in the hope of Sunday, that is something I can use my muscles on. Something I can choose with more guts than grim determination. Hope does that. It makes Friday a blessed day. Not one to be wasted or wished away. It may be a work day, but it is just two days from Sunday. It may be a day when the sun does not shine, but it can still be lived with hope. Grief is real. Hardship and suffering are real. Death is real. Hope is eternal, springing again and again from the ashes of Friday. It may be Friday now, but Sunday's coming!