shamed: No Ordinary Day
‘For here is the way God so loved the world—He gave His only unique Son as a gift.’ (John 3:16a, TPT)
April 18th, 2022
FOOL-ish, i.e. lacking judgement or sense; ill-considered; unwise; preposterous; thoughtless; reckless; absurd; idiotic.
1 Corinthians 1:18: For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.’ (NKJV)
Luke 24:5b-6a, ‘Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen!’ (NKJV)
Day Three dawns like any other day, any ordinary day; however, this is not an ordinary day. It is steeped in brilliance and vibrance. The Son of Man, risen, is no longer dead. But no one knows. Isn’t it crazy? The whole world held its breath and waited for it not to be so, just three days ago…isn’t it fool-ish they already forgot to check, to see?
It seems uncomplicated. Jesus made no bones about what was to come. He forewarned His disciples and those closest to Him that He was on a mission, and His mission: He was to be laid up for the sins of mankind, to be crucified, and on the third day, to rise again. There isn’t anything confusing about that promise nor the process. His people had watched Him be set up, had watched Him be horrifically crucified, had watched as He died. Every detail He’d uttered had occurred as He promised. So why then weren’t they sitting there, waiting at the tombs for Him to be raised again, risen, resurrected to life again?
Even the women are confused and conflicted, startled and disbelieving. But I think about this, and…you know? We have the benefit of the Scriptures. We already know what happens on Day Three. We know all of it. We scream, ‘Pay attention!’ at the disciples gathered around the table in the Upper Room, breaking the body (bread), sipping blood (wine), as Judas dips his bread in the wine. We hold our breath, hoping the rooster won’t really crow. We curl in balls and weep as we try to block out the sound of the lashes that we know strike His body. We light a candle to chase out the darkness when the world goes black. We are prepared for Good Friday, and for Easter, because why? We already know what is going to happen.
But imagine, we don’t have the words traced across parchment paper, and centuries of teachings and prophesy. If you’re Mary, the scent of the perfume wafts which she poured on Him still strong all over her. Just days before, she winces, she wiped the tears that had fallen on His feet with the tips of her hair. The memory and the fragrance are pungent. As if…as if He is here. She peers at the huge boulder no longer blocking the tomb where they laid her Master.
We giggle a bit, reading the story of the two who wandered the long dirt road backwards toward a no-name town. Just days ago, they’d departed on the Emmaus Road, and hoped never to return. Their Master was saving the whole world from themselves, and they hadn’t known what that meant, but surely it meant they would never have to return to such a dead-end place at the end of a dust-engorged dead-end road. But here they were, trudging along. We want to shout, give them hope! ‘Yeah! Hope is coming! He’s right there, right beside you, He is Hope, walking next to you!’ They can’t hear us, nor can they hear Him, as He prophesies and depicts the stories of old to them, gives every scavenger clue to them about His real identity. One would think they’d catch a glimpse, ponder a bit, put the pieces of the puzzle together, as they describe Jesus to Jesus, as they tell Him what horrific things He must have missed, about how their Savior, their Master, their Hope of Glory, had been scourged and flogged, beaten and crucified, their beliefs in tomorrow now dashed and dead. Dejected they are wandering back to a place they never wanted to go again. We mimic, ‘How could you not know?! Open your eyes! What is wrong with you?!’ We don’t understand the fool-ishness, the ignorance, but sympathetically, we nod, and suddenly, a smile breaks across our faces while we read the Scriptures. The sun comes from behind the dark cloud. Their eyes have been opened! They see Jesus as He breaks the bread and holds it out for them on nail-scarred palms. ‘They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while He talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?!” they exclaim.’ (Luke 24:32)
We recognize Jesus with our own eyes often, in our own minds, I think when we least expect that He would be there, when we least expect Him to be found by us. It is often I think when He has taken what is broken and scarred, when He shows us the tragedy of those shattered pieces and the raw and bleeding wounds, and instead He gives us hope for what can be developed in the dark places, what can sprout and grow from the dirt, what beauty comes from ashes.
John 3:16b, ‘SOW NOW: whoever believes in Him will never perish, but experience everlasting life.’ (TPT)
