I’m sitting in the sanctuary of a church of my youth. I remember sitting in the same sanctuary, in the same pew with red cushions, year after year, staring at the choirs, preachers, speakers. I remember listening to worship rehearsals, being reminded to complete my homework, and wishing we could just go home. Holy Week was long.(Preachers’ kids… you know!) Yet, today, I don’t mind how long I have to sit here. I know that the worship rehearsal is nudging, prodding, pushing me to continue #OnTheRoadToCalvary. The choir sings: “Can’t you hear him? Calvary. Can’t you hear the hammers ringing? Calvary. Can’t you hear him… calling his Father? Father! Father! Surely he died on…Calvary.”
And it’s Maundy Thursday. Many Christians around the world are celebrating… remembering… with a #steadfast hope – the Last Supper. Many more Christians will tiptoe around the story of betrayal that leads us down the road of #rejection and reminds us of our desperate #need for a Savior. Don’t skip that part of the story. Don’t forget that every step of the road to Calvary is as important as your next breath. Don’t push so quickly toward Sunday. Easter doesn’t make sense without Thursday and Friday. After all, the Maundy Thursdays and Good Fridays of our lives need us to sit in the darkness, in the pain, in the betrayal, in the suffering so that the world may know the Balm in Gilead.
The choir continues: “Just for me. Just for me. Just for me. Just for me. They pierced him in his side. He hung his head and died. He did it all… just for me.” Thank God for Thursday. Thank God for Friday. Just for me. Just for you…
Jasmine Rose Smothers 