It’s Friday, Jesus is arrested in the garden where He was praying. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, the disciples are hiding, Peter is denying, Judas is betraying. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, Jesus is standing before the high priest of Israel, silent as a lamb before the slaughter. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, those six trials by night have been a sham, and the king of Glory is weary and tired. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, Jesus is beaten, mocked, and spat upon. His beard is torn from his face. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, those Roman soldiers are flogging our Lord with a leather scourge that has bits of bones and glass and metal, tearing at his flesh. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, the Son of man stands firm as they press the crown of thorns down into his brow. A scarlet robe placed upon has torn back as the mock the King of King. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, see Him walking to Calvary, the blood dripping from His body. See the cross crashing down on His back as He stumbles beneath the load. It’s Friday; but Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, see those Roman soldiers driving the nails into the feet and wrists of my Lord. The agony is beyond words. Hear my Jesus cry, “Father, forgive them.” It’s Friday; but Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, Jesus is hanging on the cross, bloody and dying next to criminals. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, the sky grows dark, the earth begins to tremble, and He who knew no sin became sin for us. Holy God who will not abide with sin pours out His wrath on that perfect sacrificial lamb who cries out, “My God, My God. Why hast thou forsaken me?” What a horrible cry… but Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday and at the moment of Jesus’ death, the veil of the Temple that separates sinful man from Holy God was torn from the top to the bottom because Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, Jesus is hanging on the cross, heaven is weeping and hell is partying. But that’s because it’s Friday, and they don’t know it, but Sunday’s a coming...
It’s Friday, the earth trembles, the sky grows dark, my Jesus absorbs the wrath of God for the sins of the world and dies, but Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday, hope is lost, death has won and Satan’s justlaughin’. But he don’t know, Sundays comin’
It’s Friday, Jesus is buried in a tomb, the stone is rolled over the entrance and two soldiers stand guard. Fear, regret and worry grips what is left of his followers. But Sunday’s comin’.
People… It is only Friday. Sunday is a comin’!
It’s Friday…But let me tell you something Sunday’s comin’
Today is Friday and many people will go on with their busy lives, they will accept the holidays from work, the chocolate eggs and party invites yet they will pay little or no attention to Jesus death on the cross. They will shrug their shoulders at his death; perhaps it has no relevance to them, maybe they will accuse him of being a mythical figure, a delusional Jewish boy or merely a good man or prophet. Some will just avoid the truth that they know deep inside because they are afraid of change; they might as well be made of the same chocolate they enjoy eating...
What about you? Show some courage today. Just stop for a moment to read and reflect upon the most significant three days in the history of the world. No politician, army, nation or religious leader has affected the world like Jesus. The very date on your newspaper points to his life, death burial and resurrection. IF this Jesus is the son of God you cannot ignore him any longer. He deserves more.
You will never understand the significance of Friday until you embrace the power of Sunday. If Jesus did not rise from the dead then our faith, our hope is lost. So let me remind you… Sunday’s comin’. Show up at a bible believing church and discover the peace, the joy, the glory, the liberty, the hope, the love, the power of Sunday.
…Sunday’s comin’.
