I wanted to separate this post out from the other one I created today. First, let me say HAPPY EASTER!

As a chocoholic, this holiday has always held a special place in my heart. I have pictures of me each year of childhood, from the time I could stand, biting the ears off of a chocolate bunny. Sort of a family tradition. My mom still gets me a bunny every year and still asks if I've eaten the ears yet.

But this year ... not just this year, but increasingly every year, I am more and more floored by Easter. By Resurrection Day. Easter is the term the world knows, but to me, it's "Sunday". Not just any Sunday, but Sunday with a huge, honkin' capital S. The day when hope comes alive.

Years ago, I heard a sermon by a beloved pastor, Tony Campolo, entitled, "It's Friday, but Sunday's coming!" Essentially, it's like this: when you think your dreams, your life, your hope, is dead and buried, it's just Friday. Sunday's coming, with all the promise and glory and restoration and power, beyond anything you could ever imagine.

Several months ago, I first heard a song by Tree63 called "Sunday" that echos this theme.

Broken promises, weary hearts

But one promise remains:

Crucified, he will come again

It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming

It’s Friday, but Sunday comes

Darkness is already crumbling

It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming

Oh, how I love this song. Satan knows he lost. He can see it but can't admit it. King of "De Nile"? [It ain't just a river in Egypt.] He's fighting to take everyone down with him that he can, but he's done. He's lost. Won battles, but not the war. And the darkness, the evil, Death, does not get the final world. Thank you, Jesus!

Especially this year, the promise of Sunday has been so very necessary to me. Death happens, divorce happens, loss happens, brokenness happens - but it's not the end of the story! I can't control what my former husband chose to do, decisions he chose to me, but I know that it is not the end of my story. No, God in his sovereignty didn't "fix" it. He chose not to restore my marriage [although I believe this is due to His respect of free will, not His desire that I should be divorced from that particular man, as some have suggested]. But He restores me. He set my feet on a rock. He provided for me by giving me a supportive, loving family and good job that uses my talents, even when I'd been job hunting for 3 years prior to that. [Those who know me know part of it had to do with moving around so much for my former husband's work and for my marriage, not with my laziness or feelings of entitlement.] When my former husband chose not to be my husband anymore, God stepped in and said, "I gave you to each other to be helpmeets and partners, but if he chooses to walk away, *I* am still your Husband." I sit here crying, yet again this weekend, over the graciousness and gifts I did not deserve. That I still do not deserve. I didn't "deserve" this life, even if I worked hard for it. Sometimes I got it in spite of not doing my best. It's not that I'm incapable or don't deserve it. That's how the world would see these words. But I know that all good things are from God, not from the fruit of my own labor.

Okay, back on the subject again. I seriously have been floored by this all weekend, that Friday doesn't get the final word. And one of my favorite Bible teachers, Beth Moore, posted on her blog this weekend, echoing what I'd been feeling in my heart for several days now:

He had it on His mind with every beat of that hammer on the nails penetrating Christ’s flesh. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.” Death never gets the last word. Not even the death of relationship. Respect. Well-being. Health. God cannot – will not – leave well enough alone. His business is life and life at its liveliest. Loveliest. May He roll away every last thing that is stifling His effervescence in us. He never promised that life here would always be fun but He mighty well promised that life here could always be full. Every single ounce of power expended on the Cross is yours in Jesus’ Name. Ask Him what that means. How you draw from it. That’s what I’m doing today. Like you, I’ve had innumerable blessings and unforgettable moments of late. Like you, I’ve also had my own heartbreaks, disappointments, and worries.
Felt weary to the bone. Frustrated to the core. I’ve cried, too. Thought I was fed-up with some things, too. Wondered if I’d ever change, too. Then comes Good Friday. The violence that says something’s about to be different. That causes our earths to quake. Then comes the Saturday wait that seems an eternity long. Then, finally, FINALLY comes Sunday morning…long before dawn. By that time the Father has waited long enough. And stones begin to roll.

Isn't it amazing that the Holy Spirit puts in hearts, not knowing each other and thousands of miles apart, the same thing? That He knew that I just needed someone else to say [far more eloquently than I] what I'd been thinking, so I knew it wasn't just wishful thinking?

May you have a blessed Sunday, looking forward to the "big S" Sunday!