Easter Weekend

Blinded by fog as intense as the Caribbean sun, I crept up Afton Mountain Friday just as the gray rainy day surrendered to a dark rainy night.  On the way to visit my sis at the end of a big day for her, I afforded my mind the chance to roam freely- no agenda, no to-do list, no conversation to analytically pick apart.  Instead, I thought and I watched.  I watched as road signs jumped out of seeming nothingness to my right and brake lights pleaded the existence of their invisible owners through the dense fog ahead. 

How apropos for Good Friday.  That three hour expanse of road proved dreary, difficult, hazy, and somewhat hazardous.  So too, I couldn't help but think, was Jesus' last day in flesh.  How dreary the painstaking walk to Golgatha.  How difficult the spikes fiercely hammered through muscles, tendons, and bone.  How hazy the understanding of the followers in helpless attendance.  How hazardous the title "Christ follower" as they scattered.

But for the drive back home, any trace of fog was replaced with a beaming ray of sunshine.  Road signs proudly announced their information from yards away and nuances of the mountains on either side boldly displayed their subtle beauty.  Instead of being swallowed by Friday's dense cloud, I looked to my right to find miles upon miles of exuisite crystal clear valley.

What a perfect scene for travel in anticipation of Resurrection Sunday.  The drive home was clear, invigorating, beautiful, and peaceful, just as I imagine the day Jesus rose from the grave.  How clear was God's victory once the weighty fog of confusion and chaos dissipated.  How invigorating was the evidence of freedom from death.  How beautiful was the sight of the empty tomb and hours later, the resurrected Friend Himself.  How peaceful to know that the all-powerful Father is who He says He is and does what He says He will do. 

I think the Easter Weekend lesson is that those same truths prevail both in blinding fog and clear blue skies.  The difference is not what is actually present, but our sight.  And so, we develop faith as we persevere to believe in what we cannot see.  For as the veil was torn and the fog was lifted, God graciously gave clarity and a fuller picture of the beauty that was and is and is yet to come.