Day 37: Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Where is God in all of this? I’m sure more than one person in this wide world is asking that question during this global pandemic. Below are some of my own ideas about where God is not, as well as where God is. I am not a theologian, so my ideas may be skewed. If so, I hope someone will set me straight. On the other hand, I believe in the Wesleyan quadrilateral—we can test our theological beliefs , by scripture, by tradition, by our reasoning, and by our experiences. With that foundation, I offer the following:

God is not somewhere at the end of the universe, passively observing us human beings as we try to cope with the overwhelming numbers of the ill and dying.

God is not sitting somewhere gleefully watching sinful human beings paying for their misdeeds by writhing in pain and sorrow.

God is not sitting on his/her hands, watching to see what we humans will make of this challenge.

God is not simply absent.

Instead, God is present. Not just simply present, but actively present.

God’s hands are right on top of the hands of doctors and nurses, working to meet the challenge of the gravely ill.

God is sitting alongside family and friends, sorrowing with them over the loss of the loved one’s life.

God is very near these created beings, working in and through all kinds of people to make sure that the crisis can be mitigated and made manageable.

Can I prove factually that my last four statements are more true than the first four statements? No, I cannot, because religion is not formed of scientific fact, but of  experiential faith.

On the other hand, the Wesleyan quadrilateral shows us the truth of these statements.

Scripture tells us that one of God’s titles is God as healer. God is savior; in the time of the Israelite’s wanderings, when they had sinned against God, God provides the pole of the serpent to look upon and be healed from their plague of death.

Other scripture says that we can take his yoke upon us, because his yoke is easy and his burden light. Another scripture admonishes us to cast our cares upon him because he cares for us.

Through the ages, the church has trusted God as healer, and, in turn, has been the means by which mankind is healed. The church has always been on the front line to provide succor, comfort, and medical expertise.

Our reasoning also bears witness to the active presence and help of God in this time. Why would a God create us humans, call the act “very good” and then turn his/her back on our plight. Why would a God, whose story as revealed in the Bible revolves around the idea of salvation for his/her creatures, act in a cruel manner to those same creatures.

Finally, our experiences bear out the truth that God cares for us. He/She cares for us through our fellow human beings. In our own strength and abilities, we would fail in a time of crisis. Yet, around the world at this time we see not just healthcare workers saving the ill, but also all kinds of volunteers helping in their communities, providing needed food and necessary items for those who aren’t working and have no money.

Where in the world is God in all of this? God is near, ever present, ever working on our behalf—and sorrowing with us.

Day 36: Tuesday, April 7, 2020

Today the sun was shining, the bids were singing, the flowers were popping up all over, the breezes were gentle: Spring has arrived. And we needed it to come—just being able to be outside in the warmth cheered us.

And on the pandemic front, there was a bit of cheer, too. In some places the “curve” on the graph that shows how many cases we have is “flattening.” Such reports encourage some to dream of the day when we all be out and about again. Even going to work every day is beginning to sound like a great idea.

Meanwhile, our church community learned of the death of one of our dear members, one who had been faithful in so many ways to the life of the church. She did not die of coronavirus, but of cancer. And she is only one of many who will lose their lives separated from their families because of this pandemic.

And, of course, reports of the number of COVID-19 cases and deaths were higher than yesterday, even if the experts are seeing signs of the flattening of the curve. In New York City, a person died every two minutes, yet the governor of the state is hopeful that they are hitting a plateau. Feature stories from the videos of nurses and ER doctors highlight the individual human tragedies—a nurse whose mother-in-law died on her ICU ward, a faithful hospital aide, who had been helping transport patients, himself was transported out when he died of the virus.

This day, in other words, was a mixed bag of good and bad, positives and negatives, triumphs and failures, joys and sorrows. That sounds about right for our world, doesn’t it? One of us might be experiencing the best day ever when another has just received the worst possible news.

Today I’ve been wondering about all of us and how we are reacting to this new world we are living in. How are we coping? How are we caring? How are we surviving? How are we helping the situation? I sit at home, wondering what in the world I can do. Then I realize just sitting at home is doing something helpful. I pray. I don’t pray “without ceasing,” at least not consciously. But my mind often turns to prayer.

And then I wonder how people who don’t believe in prayer are coping. The situation that we all find ourselves in is one that is alarming to all of us. Perhaps we who do believe in prayer need to stand in for those who don’t know to pray. Prayer is comforting. It allows us to “off-load” our cares on one who promises to care for us. And we surely need that care—all of us do, regardless of our attitude about prayer.

Lord, care for all of us. Bring us hope for the future. Bring safety to the healthcare workers. Comfort the grieving. Give peace to the dying.

Day 35: Monday, April 6, 2020

The last days of the Israelites’ time in Egypt, the last days of the disciples’ time with Jesus, the unending days of the world’s population in the grip of a pandemic. Surreal is the only word to (in)adequately describe this time in our world against the backdrop of Lent. For me, the crisis is a test of my faith. How do I reconcile these ancient stories with their known endings to this current story with its unknown duration, let alone its ending.

I just keep reminding myself that those very real human beings did not know the end of the story when they were experiencing their “last” times; in fact, they didn’t even know those were the last times. They knew things were bad. The Israelites railed against Moses at the beginning of the plagues because Pharaoh’s heart was hardened against them and they had to slave even harder to keep their quota of bricks up to requirement. The disciples tried to forestall Jesus’ trip to the Passover in Jerusalem, knowing that many officials were determined to do him harm.

But in both stories, we know that the die was cast; the events marched forward, even as our events are marching forward. It’s much too late to stop this deadly tide, this tsunami, this tragedy. The only way is through. The Israelites had to go through the Red Sea. Jesus had to go through the crucifixion. We have to go through this uncertain time.

If we can learn from the stories, perhaps we will have courage to go through faithfully. The Israelites had to trust God’s spokesperson Moses to lead them toward a body of water that could have overwhelmed them. Instead, being led by a pillar of fire, they walked through, only to watch their enemies drown in the waters that closed over them. Jesus had to trust his heavenly Father that the “cup” he would have to drink would not be more than he could bear. And, yet, he cried out in agony, questioning whether God had forsaken him, before surrendering triumphantly to death, but also to a coming resurrection, with the words, “Into your hands I submit my spirit.”

Blind trust. Total surrender. Do we have a choice? What are our other choices? Fear? Anxiety? Withdrawal from friends and family? Rebellion? I don’t really like those choices any better. I’m not sure that I can totally reject those “other choices,” because I do have anxious thoughts and fears. But, with the Lord’s help, I want to exercise faith that we will come through on the other side with lives which are, once again, normal, happy, fulfilling, and full of lots of people that we can interact with in real time and in real spaces.

Trust. Surrender. Faith.

Day 34: Saturday, April 4, 2020

Anyone who knows me knows that I have lots of mugs. I love mugs because I love coffee and tea. Big steaming mugs make me happy, morning, noon, and night. This morning, I did what I do every morning. I chose a mug to fill with coffee. Today I chose a mug that says “Give thanks in all things,” a quote from  1Thessalonians 5:18. Immediately, I thought, “I must write what I am thankful for in this time.” What follows is just my list, in no particular order, of things I’m thankful.

My sons and stepdaughters and even my older grandchildren who are reaching out to Jim and me to make sure that we are okay

Friends who keep in touch by email or text or phone, just checking in (It’s amazing how important little texts or phone calls become when we can’t interact face to face)

My church family, but especially our pastoral and support staff, who are planning services on Sundays and Wednesdays so that we can feel we are in community

My memoir writing class that has braved a new tech world so that we can meet using the zoom ap (and I’m thankful for zoom and other video conferencing apps that make video and audio available to all of us regular folks)

My book club who, using zoom, both discusses a book of faith but also shares with one another our concerns and our promises to pray for one another

My newspapers (and the persons who deliver them), not only for giving an in depth view of the news, but also for filling some pages with new recipes to try and all kinds of puzzles to solve

Authors of books that challenge me or entertain me for some of those stay-at-home hours

Safety that I feel when I am staying at home all the time. (I’m grateful for the officials who have made the hard decisions to shut down our communities to keep us safe)

Neighbors who wave and speak from their six feet or more “air” barrier and who put hearts all over their windows and doors to indicate their concern

Reporters who have been brave to tell the truth about the crisis we’re in

Healthcare workers who are working so hard to help those who are ill

A former high school student of mine who reached out by email to see how I was doing—it was a delight to hear from him

A former college student of mine who arranged a phone call with me the other day, just to “catch up,” which reminded both of us that we do have lives beyond the virus and we will return to those lives

My nephew that keeps in touch and supports my efforts in writing this blog

My home, which is warm, comfortable, and has more than what I need to keep me safe and fed and “exercised” and entertained (and I realize how fortunate I am to have such a home when there are those around the world who have so much less)

Our flower beds and trees that are showing us that spring is showing up right on time, regardless of the virus

My husband Jim and my dog Babe who are my constant companions and protectors

My God, who is watching over all of us on this round Earth, seeing our suffering and suffering with us.

As I was reading the lectionary readings for the day, I was struck once again with this scripture from 2 Corinthians 4: 8-10:

 “Hard-pressed on every side, we are never hemmed in; bewildered, we are never at our wits’ end; hunted, we are never abandoned to our fate; struck down, we are not left to die. Wherever we go we carry death with us in our body, the death that Jesus died, that in this body also life may reveal itself, the life that Jesus lives” (NEB).

What reassurance that life cannot overwhelm us when we are in God’s hands, regardless of how we might be feeling about our circumstances. We carry in our bodies “the life that Jesus lives.”

Perhaps you can make your own list of “thankfuls” in this trying time. It will make you feel better because it will remind you, as writing the list did for me, of the many things to be thankful for each day. And, perhaps, too, we can focus on the life of Christ that we carry in our bodies.

Day 33: Friday, April 3, 2020

One more week of Lent. I wish we could say there was just one week left of the COVID-19 pandemic. But these two events are following different trajectories. Even though we can’t hurry the calendar, we know that Easter is coming. As we follow Christ through the last days of his life, we are horrified that one of his inner circle would betray him, we are ashamed that one of his inner circle would deny him, and we mourn with is disciples with the thought that this charismatic leader who promised so much has died on the cross. But all the while, we know Sunday is coming. Resurrection is in the air.

But that’s not the case with our current crisis. We haven’t heard or seen this story before. We don’t know who will betray, who will deny, who will mourn. The story has to play out in real time—and all we can do is to stay in our homes and watch the scenes unfold in front of our eyes. Not only do we not know what the scenes will be, we also do not know how long they will last. We just know they won’t end by Easter.

That first Holy Week, the disciples did not know how all those scenes were going to play out either. All they could do was to move forward, following Jesus through all the events of that week. They didn’t understand Jesus’ words most of the time, but I doubt we would have either. And they didn’t follow very faithfully—they followed from afar. After his death, they locked themselves into a room in fear of what might happen to people who had known Jesus.

As a society, our attitudes and efforts in the light of this COVID-19 event are as checkered as those of the disciples 2000 years ago. We definitely don’t understand the virus, but neither do we understand all of the varied official responses to the crisis. And I’m not sure that all of the responses are very “faithful” in light of what seems to be needed. Across our country the healthcare workers are working tirelessly, putting their own health at risk every day. And some mayors and governors seem to understand that they need to work just as hard to make some progress in this fight against the invisible virus. At the same time, we have mayors and governors and federal officials and even some pastors of churches who, at best, are confused as to what their responses should be, and, at worst, are ignoring the magnitude of this problem.

Our country and every other country on this tiny, fragile planet Earth will have to go through its own dark days, its own betrayals and denials and trials, its own crucifixion. We will have to follow along; we have no choice. Can we do something to lessen the impact of the virus? Many experts have been telling us daily that we must do all the common precautionary measures: frequent hand washing, wearing a facial covering, observing the six-feet apart rule, and, most importantly, staying at home. We can help each other to cope with the anxieties we all feel.

And we can wait—and hope with expert faith—for resurrection. We will survive—not all of us—but as a society, we will. And life will seem different: sweeter, more precious, more valuable, more worth living.

Day 32: Thursday, April 2, 2020

Today was our first adventure into the big wide world that is newly made because of our stay-at-home orders. We had to break the order so that we could return our granddaughter to her home in southern Illinois.  In some ways, we didn’t prepare differently—we gathered water bottles, travel mugs, and plenty of snacks. But we also searched for our anti-bacterial wipes and about four or five bottles of hand sanitizer. We headed out, armed as well as we could be, to greet the world where coronavirus might be lurking.

As it turned out, the trip wasn’t very different from a usual road trip. We waited as long as possible for our first pit stop. Then we found out it would be a little bit later than we had wished because all the interstate rest areas were closed for restroom use. Apparently, a truck or car could pull into the area to “rest” or walk, but not to find a restroom. We found a great truckstop whose restrooms had fully automated water/soap/dryer combination. It was a great “look, Mom, no hands” moment. Still, just in case, all of us lathered up with hand sanitizer as we approached our car to continue the journey.

The oddest part of the trip was getting to our daughter’s home only to greet each other with “air” hugs. The four-year-old was unfazed by the lack of human touch, but the seven-year-old started to run towards me with his arms out for the hug. Fortunately, it was the most beautiful spring day we have had, with temps in the 60s, so we enjoyed our twenty-minute visit in the yard. One highlight was watching the first grader’s teacher (with eight other teachers) drive by in a car parade, horns honking, windows decorated with sayings such as “stay healthy” and “we miss u,” and balloons streaming. It was heartwarming to see teachers do what they could to connect with their students, if only for a brief moment.

I would rate our day trip a success. We didn’t encounter too many people at either of the stops we made. The fast food we ordered was served out the drive-thru window by a worker who had on vinyl gloves. As far as we know, we avoided any contact with the virus. Still, I wouldn’t recommend anyone going on a trip unless it is absolutely necessary. We still don’t know enough about the virus to know for sure that we can dodge the virus’s ubiquitous nature.

Even though we were in an automobile most of the day, we were fortunate to be able to stay in touch with people through our smart phones. Unfortunately, this day held some sorrows for those we know and love. We heard about the untimely death of a friend’s son. Later we learned about an older friend’s dire diagnosis of a rare kidney disorder. This comes just a few days after learning that a young friend has been diagnosed with lymphoma and an older friend has had to start yet another round of strong chemo for her cancer. And, of course, other friends are asking for prayers for their family members who work in healthcare or essential service industries.

The words of Isaiah 53: 4-5 remind us that Christ is our succor:

Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.
⁵ But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.  (NKJV biblegateway.com)

The passage speaks of the coming of one who will be punished for our transgressions and iniquities, but only after promising us that he will bear our griefs and carry our sorrows—and finally, he will bring us peace and healing.

Lord, so be it.

Day 31, Wednesday, April 1, 2020

This evening I want to cry over this crisis we are in. Not for any particular reason—just because people are dying, and they are dying alone because of the CDC guidelines. The guidelines are necessary, but healthcare workers have pleaded for more masks and more personal protective gear so that perhaps, just perhaps, a loved one could join the individual that is “nigh unto death.” And so I feel like crying.

And then I just heard that thousands of N-95 surgical masks, needed so badly by our healthcare workers, are being shipped to foreign buyers. How could companies not realize that those are needed here? It’s not that they are not needed in other places; they are. BUT (and it is a big but) the US has more cases, with a higher rate of the rise of new cases, than any other country. Soon, it will have more deaths than any other country, as well. And so I feel like crying.

And I have to admit my own cowardice and fear. I was participating in a zoom book club meeting today. Our conversation turned to the COVID-19 pandemic and our emotional responses to it and our fears for what the future will be like after it has finally subsided. Some were saying that they were afraid that we never again would hug someone, that we never again would want to go to a place where people have to be in close quarters, like bars and restaurants, that we never again would want to participate in the Eucharist with others. I had to admit that I hadn’t really thought much about “life after coronavirus” because I was afraid of the life during coronavirus. I’m afraid to go among people because I don’t want to get the virus. I’m afraid that I will get it, and that I will not be able to fight it off. I hate to be a coward, but must admit that I am. And so I feel like crying.

And I have to admit, too, that I’m not doing a good job of keeping up with others. I need to have a routine of calling others, texting others, emailing others, but I don’t. I get distracted by just whatever comes my way daily, letting all the little responsibilities of cooking, cleaning, playing with grandchild, and walking the dog take over my whole day. I’m failing at being the kind of friend that reaches out to others. And so I feel like crying.

I am very happy when people reach out to me—and I need to respond to others in kind. At present, we can’t really be “the hands and feet of Jesus” because we can’t go and we can’t touch. But, perhaps, we can be the voice of Jesus, the words of Jesus, the comforting “presence” of Jesus as we relate to each other even while maintaining our stay-at-home status. One other way in which we can be Jesus—we can cry, we can sorrow, we can feel the pain of loss for all the people who are dying of this insidious virus. Could we be called to suffer this sorrow, even as God sorrows for our world? And, again, I feel like crying, this time because I understand that I must sorrow, too. It is the right response to what our world is suffering.

Day 30, March 31, 2020

The daily lectionary readings for the Old Testament during this Lenten season have been from the beginning of the Bible—Genesis and Exodus. The stories have been of the patriarchs, from Abraham to Isaac to Jacob to the twelve sons—then the jump of 400 years to the story of Moses and the deliverance of the Children of Israel from the hand of the despotic Egyptian pharaoh.

The readings have been selected to parallel the narrative of the days leading up to Jesus’ death and resurrection; for example, these days we are reading about the last days of the Israelites’ time in Egypt, the time when Moses performs signs and wonders and then sends plagues on the pharaoh and the Egyptians. The night of deliverance when the angel of God “passed over” the homes of the faithful Israelites who smeared the blood of the lambs on their door mantels, parallels the Passover Feast days in Jerusalem when Jesus eats the “Last Supper” with his disciples, when he is arrested, and when he is crucified.

What is, perhaps, more interesting to me and others about these Old Testament stories is the character of these patriarchs. Not one of them was free from the universal human condition of rebelling against the will of God. Not one of them was free from fear, deceit, greed, and anger. Abraham, called by God to leave his home to a land that God would give him, fearing the power of earthly leaders, lies about Sarah being his wife. Even when Abraham behaves badly, God continues to bless him. Then there is Jacob, whose very name means deceiver, who lives up to his name by tricking his father to get his brother’s elder-son blessing and later by tricking his father-in-law Laban to increase his own flocks rapidly. Still, God continued to bless Jacob with large family and flocks. Then, of course, there are Jacob’s sons, ten of whom conspire to do harm to their one brother Joseph and to trick their father into thinking Joseph is dead. God allows Joseph’s kidnapping to work for their good, being the means by which they and all their families can survive seven years of famine.

Finally, the descendant of Jacob, Moses, is born to an Israelite mother and, therefore, marked for death, but, instead, is raised in wealth and comfort in a royal Egyptian home. Even he, saved from death as an infant by the God of his forefathers, cannot control his rage, killing an Egyptian and fleeing in cowardice into the desert. Yet, forty years later, God chooses him to be the leader who will bring the means of deliverance to the Israelite slaves.

God just keeps choosing these flawed men over and over again throughout the years of the growth of Abraham’s descendants. And in those stories, all of us flawed human beings can find hope for ourselves. God will continue to choose us, no matter what direction our rebellion against God has taken. Even better, our stories have a different trajectory because we live on this side of the cross of Jesus. Not only does God continue to choose us, but He continues to offer redemption, a way to turn from our rebellion through his grace and to live in the hope of resurrection—a future without any failure, a future without any sorrow, a future without any illness and death.

Even though our present days may seem to be the “worst of times,” we can rest in the assurance of living on this side of the cross, making every day of the last almost two thousand years the “best of times.”

Day 28: Saturday, March 28, 2020 (finished Sunday, March 29)

I just finished watching the documentary “Won’t You Be My Neighbor” about Fred Rogers. I have to admit that I cried during most of the second half. What a wonderful man he was—true, consistent, wise, trustworthy, loving, full of integrity—people could just pile up descriptions about the positive traits that he had. Of course, he was controversial, but I wonder if much of the ire that he caused in some people was because they could not believe that a person could be such a “straight arrow”—a person too good to be true. And yet he was exactly that straight arrow, not in his own right, but because of his profound faith. Being an ordained Presbyterian minister, he made his television audiences his parish. Children, vulnerable in their impressionability towards the programming that targeted them, were his special parishioners.

I hadn’t realized that his puppet Daniel, the tiger, was the projection of his own childhood self, an intelligent, sensitive, insecure child who often felt different and inadequate. The documentary included a clip of Daniel, the tiger, singing a song about being a fake when he puts on a false front of self-confidence when he really feels that he cannot be accepted and loved for who he really is. The clip is a lovely duet between him and Lady Evelyn who sings affirmations to him as he continues to sing his insecurities. One of the commentators noted that Fred Rogers did not create a song in which Daniel would automatically accept the affirmations and become instantaneously positive about himself. The duet allows for both voices—with both the positive and negative aspects to remain, a blending of the two which mirrors the uncertainties many children—and adults—experience all the time.

Perhaps that is why I cried so much during the second half of the documentary. I may not be a child, but I can identify with the fears that Fred Rogers tackled all the time on his PBS program. The human condition is universal and timeless. Whether we are five or fifty—or more, we all have these inborn fears and insecurities. We all need to be accepted, to be loved, to be understood. Apparently, one of the reasons Fred Rogers was so successful in communicating with children was his ability to remember his own childhood fears and to access the underlying insecurities that had continued throughout his adult life. We should all be so transparent that we could access our little (young) inner selves and, thus, understand all those other selves that we encounter.

Empathy, we would call that ability. Fred Rogers had it in spades. You could see it in his eyes, his gentle smile, his outstretched arms and hear it in his calm, reassuring voice. I doubt it was a result merely of his understanding of his own childhood. I think it was, indeed, his understanding of his Christian faith. He channeled the love of God through his eyes and hands and voice in order to bring peace and comfort and stability to the children who were his audience.

In this time of the COVID-19 crisis in our country, I wonder if I am doing as much as I can do to be empathetic to those around me. I imagine many of us are experiencing fears that remind us of fears we experienced as children. Beyond being empathetic, I wonder if I am being Christ-like to those around me. Do I exhibit an unconditional love that accepts those around me with all their fear, anxiety, anger, and denial.

Lord, help me, and other people of faith, to show your love in this time when most of our contacts have to be virtual. We may not be able to hug, but we can smile, we can share warmth in our voices, and we can write encouraging notes.

Day 29, Monday, March 30, 2020

Jesus is on his way to the cross. The time is getting near. We heard it in our Sunday scripture where Jesus weeps over Lazarus’s grave, but, perhaps, weeps, too, in anticipation of his own death. And we have the scripture which retells Mary’s extravagant sacrifice of the costly burial perfume, pouring it on Jesus’s feet, in preparation for his coming death and burial. In his gospel, Mark tells us that Jesus sets his feet toward Jerusalem, knowing what is to come.

We who follow the Christian faith feel the heaviness of the coming sorrow, the inevitability of the betrayal, the arrest, the crucifixion of this man who is our friend, our master, just as he was the friend and master of the twelve who followed him day by day as he turned to Jerusalem. We can’t stop the story; it must play out as it always does. We have to go through the despair and the darkness; we can’t skip this period of the coming doom. Yes, there are some high points. One will be the “triumphal entry” into Jerusalem.  Another will be the daily visits to the Temple. But those will not be able to stave off the sense that the impending crisis is speeding towards all of us.

The impending crisis is speeding towards all of us: suddenly the story of 2000 years ago intersects with the reality of our lives today in this world that is getting sicker each day. The heaviness and inevitability and the doom belong to us in our story. High points are in our story, too. Internet is full of postings for good news; large cities are cheering for their health care professionals at the end of each day; people are putting signs—symbols of caring—in their windows. I heard of a community that is setting teddy bears in the windows for children who might be out on a walk with their parents and see the familiar, comforting figures. In our community, hearts of all sizes and colors are being placed in front windows to communicate to all walkers that the neighborhood cares for one another. Still the good news, the cheers, the teddy bears, the hearts, as important to our emotional health as they are, cannot stop the crisis, which for some is impending and which for others is upon them.

Just as the story of our faith requires us to go through this inevitable time of anticipating a death, so does this pandemic require us to anticipate death. We pray that the rate of deaths from the virus can be slowed, but we are already seeing deaths—and the loss of even one is too many. Because this is our reality, we can’t do a rewind till we can do a “do-over.” There is no do-over; there is only the path forward—through a crisis, through a cross, through a death.

“It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming!” cries the old preacher who likens our lives to the three days that represent the heart of our religion: the crucifixion on Friday, the silent waiting on Saturday, the resurrection on Sunday. Right now, we are living through a horrible Friday. We don’t know when our Resurrection Sunday will come. I doubt it comes on the date that we will celebrate Easter this year. But just as God the Father was with God the Son during his Friday, so will this God be with us during our Friday. And Sunday will come.