Sunday Came
You waited. You stayed. And the thing you could not make happen - happened.
It came.
Not the way anyone expected. Not through the door anyone was watching. Not with the announcement they thought they were waiting for.
It came quietly, the way real things do. A garden. A name spoken. A moment so ordinary on the surface that the people closest to it almost missed it.
Sunday came.
And everything that Friday had said — it's over, it didn't work, you were wrong to believe — turned out to be wrong.
Not because the pain wasn't real. It was. Not because the loss didn't happen. It did. The cross was real. The tomb was real. The silence of Saturday was real.
But the silence was not the end of the sentence.
This is the thing about resurrection: it does not undo what happened. It does not pretend Friday was fine. It does not erase the scars — in fact, if you remember, the risen Christ still had them. He showed them. He let them be touched.
Resurrection does not mean the hard thing didn't happen.
It means the hard thing does not get the last word.
Some of you have been waiting for a long time. You have been faithful in the waiting — not always gracefully, not always with peace, but you have stayed. You have kept the line open. You have shown up even when showing up felt like going through the motions.
Sunday is for you.
Not as a reward for your faithfulness. Not as a transaction. But as a reminder that the story you are in is not over, that the silence you have been sitting in is not the final word, that the God who did not stay in the tomb is the same God who is present in whatever Friday you have been living.
You were not wrong to hope.
Sunday came.
And everything that wanted to tell you otherwise — was wrong.
If something here stayed with you, the Direction Series was written for exactly where you are. You can find it at direction-series-bible-study.squarespace.com.
The porchlight is on. 🔆
© 2025 Wylette P. Tillman | Polaris Press LLC
