I imagine it was quiet. Everywhere they went. There were everyday street sounds, people selling in the market, noisy animals, and crying. No. Wailing. Of course there was wailing.
But I have a feeling those noises felt a million miles away to believers. Men that had immediately left their family fishing business on the side of a sandy shore to follow Him. Women that had given an expensive bottle of perfume in the opportunity to anoint The Lord. Men that had so easily betrayed Him with a gesture meant to show love and commitment: a kiss.
As if in a well, those sounds would have been way off, blocked by the confusion, defeat, the devastation that seemed to stop up their ears. “This can’t be. We JUST had dinner with Him. There is still so much to do. This can’t be” rolling over and over in their minds. Where our logic and sight fight each other for the upper hand. Where our subconscious tries hard to convince us we are stuck in a nightmare, Friday never happened.
But we know better. We simply don’t know where to go from here.
Praise for Friday. Praise to Jesus for choosing me and my shame even before I was born. Praise to God’s plan to make a way, so now I can go right to the source. He knows my name. He has always known my name.
Praise the promise that reminds me that my tears may be many, my confusion and struggles great.
Thank you, Jesus. Everyday, help me to live my life as a thank you drawing others to you and giving you all the glory.