The Darkest Day

Have you noticed that the shutters in the sanctuary have been shut on Sunday? To be honest with you, I don’t like it.

I’m not supposed to like it. And neither are you.

One of my Sunday morning rituals has been to go to those windows and open those shutters, letting the light flood in, as I pray: “Lord, enlighten the hearts of your people.” But since Ash Wednesday, we’ve kept them shut.

As I preach each week, when I look to my right, I see a bowl filled with black ashes. A reminder that we have come from dust and to dust we shall return.

Lent is the long valley to Easter, but before we get to the bright light on the horizon we must journey through the darkest day: Good Friday. The day and evening when the lights are lowered, our mouths stay shut, and our hearts are pulled into the ache of sin’s terrible cost.

As I’ve said before: I want Easter Sunday, but I need Good Friday.

On Friday, April 3rd at 6:30PM we will gather to once again make the journey to Calvary’s hill and to look upon the cross of Christ.

I hope you will make plans to join us as we gaze upon Golgotha and remember that Christ was pierced for our transgressions. And, with his wounds, we are healed.