Waiting For Sunday

Over the years, I had heard people say God’s timing is perfect, and I know this to be true in every way, even when I had wished resolution according to the minutes displayed on my timepiece instead of His. God always shows up in his discrete timing and grand designs. He takes all of the time he needs to formulate sweet symphonies orchestrated by His tender hands alone. While seconds whisk away for us, they only cease for Him while He carefully arranges each stroke upon His magnificent canvas in just enough time to craft my best outcome.

And though I don’t believe God creates the hardships, I do know He uses them to pen the perfect scripts of grace. God uses breaking points to set the stage for beautiful breakthroughs where damaged hearts discover the delightful delicacy of love.

Easter is when we rejoice in the culmination of Jesus’ life on earth, the ultimate victory, and ultimately joy drenched in drops of sorrow.

This encounter did not unfold without pain. As his loved ones began to weep and lament, deep sadness stretched among the heavens and earth during this single act of love.

Jesus arose from the tomb victoriously, but still, there were 24 long-drawn hours wedged between Friday and Sunday. On that dark Friday, when the earth began to shake, people were left bewailing the loss of their sweet savior and wondered how the account of the greatest love story that ever existed would end. Could they ever exchange their grief with joy? Would Sunday ever come?

The tale of Easter tells me so much more than the outcome of a risen savior. It’s a story that illustrates joy and struggle breathe within the same pages of a story.

Deeply engraved into the pages of His book, He speaks with tenderness in his tone, saying, “Truly, truly, I say to you, that you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice; you will grieve, but your grief will be turned into joy.”

But still, God does not say that the melody from rejoicing comes when our tears have ceased to flow, but only as we continue to strive forward, pulling on His strength with tears so seemingly in our eyes, are going to uncover the songs of joy. We witness ourselves versifying lyrics we didn’t think we knew to conceive a sensation of victory birthing in our core, rumbling to reach the marrow of our bones, all the while tears continue to stream down our face.

God is saying there is a deep well of joy we can draw from on a Saturday when we don’t yet know the hope Sunday holds. We can praise Him with laughter and tears at the very same moment in the same struggle.

Sunday will come. At the most meticulous minute, precisely in God’s timing and not a second later. Beauty from ashes will arise if we push forward without relenting in joy and tears and indeed seek Him