I should have posted this yesterday (for Good Friday), but I just didn't get around to it until today. Forgive me.
Every Easter I post something about the season and my faith. I don't feel that I have the words to properly express the significance of the meaning of Easter. Usually, I select something inspiration from someone more gifted with "preaching" than I am.
This year I have chosen a repeat, a sermon by the late Rev. S.M. Lockridge. I felt justified since many of my previous posts were lost in a switch-over of my blog location last summer. This is one of my most favorites; so, I wanted to be sure a copy was available on the current incarnation of my blog.
I hope you enjoy, but more importantly - I hope you get the significance.
Video: It's Friday...But Sunday's Coming (This Link opens in a New Window)
It’s Friday. Jesus is praying. Peter’s a sleeping. Judas is betraying.
But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. Jesus is praying. Peter’s a sleeping. Judas is betraying.
But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. Pilate’s struggling. The council is conspiring. The crowd is vilifying. They don’t even know that Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. The disciples are running like sheep without a shepherd.
Mary’s crying. Peter is denying. But they don’t know that Sunday’s a comin’.
It’s Friday. The Romans beat my Jesus. They robe Him in scarlet. They crown Him with thorns. But they don’t know that Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. See Jesus walking to Calvary. His blood dripping. His body stumbling. And his spirit’s burdened. But you see, it’s only Friday.
Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. The world’s winning. People are sinning. And evil’s grinning.
It’s Friday. The soldiers nail my Savior’s hands to the cross. They nail my Savior’s feet to the cross. And then they raise him up next to criminals.
It’s Friday. But let me tell you something: Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. The disciples are questioning. What has happened to their King. And the Pharisees are celebrating that their scheming has been achieved. But they don’t know: It’s only Friday. Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. He’s hanging on the cross feeling forsaken by His Father.
Left alone and dying. Can nobody save Him? Oooh, it’s Friday. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. The earth trembles. The sky grows dark. My King yields his spirit.
It’s Friday. Hope is lost. Death has won. Sin has conquered. And Satan’s just a laughing.
It’s Friday. Jesus is buried. A soldier stands guard. And a rock is rolled into place.
But it’s Friday. It is only Friday.
Sunday is a comin’.
But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. Jesus is praying. Peter’s a sleeping. Judas is betraying.
But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. Pilate’s struggling. The council is conspiring. The crowd is vilifying. They don’t even know that Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. The disciples are running like sheep without a shepherd.
Mary’s crying. Peter is denying. But they don’t know that Sunday’s a comin’.
It’s Friday. The Romans beat my Jesus. They robe Him in scarlet. They crown Him with thorns. But they don’t know that Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. See Jesus walking to Calvary. His blood dripping. His body stumbling. And his spirit’s burdened. But you see, it’s only Friday.
Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. The world’s winning. People are sinning. And evil’s grinning.
It’s Friday. The soldiers nail my Savior’s hands to the cross. They nail my Savior’s feet to the cross. And then they raise him up next to criminals.
It’s Friday. But let me tell you something: Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. The disciples are questioning. What has happened to their King. And the Pharisees are celebrating that their scheming has been achieved. But they don’t know: It’s only Friday. Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. He’s hanging on the cross feeling forsaken by His Father.
Left alone and dying. Can nobody save Him? Oooh, it’s Friday. But Sunday’s comin’.
It’s Friday. The earth trembles. The sky grows dark. My King yields his spirit.
It’s Friday. Hope is lost. Death has won. Sin has conquered. And Satan’s just a laughing.
It’s Friday. Jesus is buried. A soldier stands guard. And a rock is rolled into place.
But it’s Friday. It is only Friday.
Sunday is a comin’.
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