We talk about Good Friday, and Jesus being crucified on the cross. We talk about Easter, and Jesus being raised from the dead. But what happened on the second day? That dark, desperate day in between...
The day second day after my dad died was one of those days where I woke up, exhausted, and dehydrated. My tears had drained me of nourishment and energy. I wanted to wake up and find it was a dream. I still couldn't believe I wouldn't hear my dad's voice or laugh again here on earth.
On the second day after my dad died, we made the trip back to my hometown. I hugged my mom and my sister, my grandma and my cousins, aunts and uncles. The pain in my stomach had turned into an emptiness. Slowly, the reality was setting in. The finality of it all was becoming clear.
On the second day after my dad died, I watched Evie try to cheer people up, try to process how quickly her world had changed. We had just seen my dad the week before, and he was fine; he was grandpa. Now, suddenly, he was gone, as was a piece of Evie's security in this world.
On the second day after my dad died, I thought about Christ on the cross, and the promise that it gave me to see my dad again. Someday...but when...?
I think the second day may have been quite similar for Jesus's friends, family, and followers. They woke, they cried, they hugged, and wished. On the second day they hurt, they healed, they wondered, and they thought.
On the second day, they hoped; as we all hope, for that future when we will see our loved ones again. We have faith in God's promise that Christ was sufficient and has the power to save us all. We have love eternal which lives on after us; because God first loved us.
Hope, faith, and love; on the second day, and for each day forward, until we meet again...