Sunday Is Here

I had the privilege of sitting beside Griffin and behind Amelia at church yesterday. Spread over two pews, Dad, Dana, Finley, Mom (when she wasn’t at the piano), Griffin, Amelia, and I attended Easter services together at Antioch Baptist Church. I loved seeing Amelia’s beautiful smile extending from her pretty little dress and helping Griffin stand on the pew beside me so that he could follow along with the hymns. I loved seeing them walk confidently down the aisle to the children’s sermon and triumphantly back to their seats with Easter bunnies of candy and children’s worship packets.

Griffin didn’t use his worship packet, though. He made sure he knew where his bunny was at all times, but he didn’t choose to color during the sermon. Instead, he sat and listened. And when we got to a part in the sermon when the pastor shared some of the events of Jesus’ life on Good Friday and said, “It’s Friday…” and we were supposed to respond with, “But Sunday is coming,” Griffin said it with everyone else—over and over again...until he whispered to me, “Dee. Why do we keep saying Sunday is coming?”

As best as I could in a whisper in the middle of a momentarily interactive sermon, I explained that on Good Friday Jesus was killed but that on Sunday he came back. That on Friday, a whole bunch of bad things happened but on Sunday a bunch of good things happened.

Griffin said, “So today is Friday?”

I thought, “That is what we keep hearing and sort of saying.”

I said, “No, baby. Today is Sunday. Today we’re celebrating that Jesus is alive. Sunday is already here.”

A moment later, Griffin said, “Dee. Are talking about Jesus or God or both?”

I thought, “That’s a heavy weight question that people spend their lives trying to understand.”

I said, “Both. Jesus is God’s son.” I chose not to mention the Holy Spirit and/or the Trinity for the time being. After all, Griffin is only six…and this conversation did happen during worship.

Last night at supper, as all twelve of my family members were somehow comfortably crammed around the table, Griffin responded to a question of what we were all doing tomorrow by saying, “Today is Friday, isn’t it?”

Understanding his confusion, I said, “No, baby. It’s Sunday. Remember? We were saying it was Friday because of the bad things that happened to Jesus on Friday, but Sunday is already here. It’s today.”

Because dinner conversation continued while I was reminding Griffin that it was Sunday, we quickly moved on and didn’t return to the subject… but it obviously stuck with me.

Maundy Thursday. Good Friday. Lent. They are dark times on the Christian calendar. They are full of surrender and sacrifice and culminate in what I imagine to be a time of heavy stillness and numb shock—a time of having no idea where to go or to whom to turn and of wondering how the world could go on. 2000 years later, because of what we know happened on Sunday, those dark times—and all dark times—are weathered by the reality of hope, the belief in redemption, the pardon of forgiveness, and the living presence of a life-giving God.

But yesterday wasn’t Friday. Yesterday wasn’t dark. Yesterday was Sunday. Yesterday was Resurrection Day. Yesterday was Christ alive.

Yesterday was, “Friday was Friday. Dark. Ugly. Full of betrayal. Hopeless. Awful. Terrible. But today is not Friday. Today is Sunday. Sunday is here! What was dead is now alive! What was dark is now light! It’s Sunday. Resurrection Day! Now let’s celebrate. True life is here!”

Yesterday wasn’t, “It’s Friday but Sunday is Coming.” Yesterday was, “Friday was Friday. But Sunday is here!”

Had we said, “But Sunday is here,” over and over again, I imagine that Griffin would have said, “Dee, why do we keep saying ‘But Sunday is here?’” I probably still would have had to whisper the meaning of Friday and Sunday and Griffin still might have asked about Jesus and God…but…I don’t know…I think the message of “Sunday is here” is different than that of “Sunday is coming”…and I think it’s always good not to confuse a kindergartener about his days of the week .