Let’s go back….over 2017 years. Jesus is fresh out (of the tomb), and nobody knows a thing. Mary (His mom) & Mary Magdalene get to the tomb, having a chit chat about how this has easily been the worst weekend ever (it’s up there with the day that Lazarus died) and wondering who is going to roll the stone away for them to pay their respects. Ohhhh but they had no idea that the stone wouldn’t be a problem at all, and that they had probably walked right past the living Man they were coming to mourn. 

Today is a holiday we call Good Friday; it’s a day that we celebrate death. Good Friday is the day that nothing good seemed to happen. On what we now call Good Friday, Jesus was snatched, because one of his disciples sold Him out. On ‘Good Friday’, the very people that screamed ‘Hosanna’ (literally, a week ago), now surrounded Jesus screaming for His crucifixion (my…how their song has changed). On Good Friday, Jesus was mocked and brutally beaten, forced himself up a hill, and surrendered Himself to the nails that they put in His hands & His feet. On Good Friday, He handled His final affairs, & committed His spirit to His Father. On Good Friday, Life….died.

Earlier this week, I read about this…woman. I never got her name, but I heard a pretty defining piece of her story. Apparently, she’d been ill & bent over for 18 years. She walked in the synagogue one day, and heard this man (known on the streets as Jesus) call her name. She walked over to Him (because dude was a pretty big deal), and He says “woman, you are loosed from your infirmity”, laid hands on her, and BAM, she’s just like new. I thought about it, and I realized that in a lot of ways, I’d been like that woman. I hadn’t been physically ill for decades, but…ok…let’s sit & break this down.