It had been a very long weekend for the disciples and the others who loved Jesus. None of them fully understood what he had been teaching them about His resurrection and therefore were not really expecting the events of the first Easter. So when Mary reported to Peter and the others the events that had transpired at the tomb and about having seen the risen Jesus they undoubtedly thought that the women had lost their minds. Luke 24:11 claims that ‘these words sounded like nonsense to them.”

However, there was probably just a little spark of hope that remained because the Gospel of John records a foot race between Peter and the disciple that Jesus loved to the tomb to check out the women’s story. Luke 24:12 records that Peter was amazed at the sight of the empty tomb, but he still went back home because ‘they still did not understand the Scripture that He must rise from the dead (John20:9).”

It wasn’t until the evening of that first Easter that it became apparent to everyone that Jesus had indeed been resurrected from the dead when Jesus appeared to all eleven of the disciples. They had gathered together behind locked doors because they were still afraid of the Jews (John 20:19) when Jesus appeared to all of them at once. “Peace to you,” He told them. “Peace to you! As the Father sent Me, I also send you.” (John 20:19-21)

That first Easter was a day of amazement, excitement and exhilaration like no other day since the beginning of the world. Although it took until the evening of that first Easter for all of those in Jesus’ inner circle to fully grasp what had taken place, there was a pregnant anticipation throughout the day that I can’t even begin to imagine. After all, dead people normally remain quite dead! I would love to be able to listen in on some of the conversations that went on that first Easter as everybody was comparing stories and trying to make sense of it all. With each new story there was a growing sense of electric anticipation among everyone in the inner circle until full realization burst upon the scene when Jesus finally appeared to all of them at once.

In churches across the globe this Easter morning we will join in the celebration of the first Easter. “He is Risen,” the pastor will lead; “He is Risen Indeed!” we will echo back.

On my way to work this evening I stopped at the convenience store to pick up a soda and get gas. It was a typical Friday night at the convenience store I frequent with a couple of scantily dressed young women buying beer for some party or another at the register; there were several young toughs milling around in the parking lot admiring each others motorcycles; a middle-aged mother in a rumpled blouse buying milk and an Icee for her daughter from the tattooed clerk who asks me to keep praying for him and always tells me that next Sunday he’s going to visit my church.

Just another Friday night for the vast majority of the world. I imagine that if I would have mentioned to some of those that I encountered that it was Good Friday, they may have grunted, “Oh yea, it sure is, ain’t it?” Others may not have known what I was even talking about. “Good Friday? Seems I’ve heard about that, what is it again?” Most of them would have then gone about their business.

Flash back two thousand years (give or take twenty or so) and it was probably much the same scene around most of the world. Now, most of those in Jerusalem probably knew about the crucifixion of some renegade claiming to be the Messiah but most probably just thought that it was good riddance to bad rubbish. In the wider world around Israel and stretching out to the ends of the Roman Empire and beyond, no one had a clue as to what had happened a few hours ago nor what was to take place on the following Sunday morning. It was simply another Friday night and Sunday was simply going to be another Sunday.

Then, like now, most people simply didn’t know what had happened and many of those that did didn’t attach any great significance to it.

Even after His resurrection, news was slow to get out. It took a number of years for the five or six hundred eyewitnesses to get the word out what had just happened and it took the early theologians like Paul, Peter and John a few years to completely piece everything together from Jesus’ teachings and from a fresh reading of the Torah and the Prophets and then start spreading the ‘good news’ that this Jesus had indeed been the Messiah and that His death and resurrection had launched a whole new age upon the world. An age in which we could be reconciled to God and have a hope for life eternal. A hope for the power of the promised Holy Spirit who would enable us once and for all to be able to break free from the clutches of sin and rebellion.

There were a great many years that all Easter meant to me was that it was time to plant my spring garden. Oh, on some years I made a point of visiting some church or another, but for the most part I still just didn’t get it. And Good Friday? Friday night was a night to cruise the strip and swill beer or go play poker at a buddy’s house. It was just like any other Friday of the year. If I noticed it coming up on the calendar, my main question was whether or not it was a paid holiday this year or not. I was just like most of the folks that I encountered at the convenience store this evening….just another Friday night.

As I drove to work, I wondered about those people at the store and indeed all of the people around the world who still don’t know what happened on that Good Friday all of those years ago. I thought about those who have heard the news but still really don’t know whether to believe that it all actually went down like we Christians say that it did. I then thought about those people who really just don’t care one way or the other but are still bent, like I was, on living the ‘good life’ and partying the night away.

Some of those people that I saw tonight probably will come to understand the significance of Good Friday and Easter Sunday later on in life. Youth will begin to slip away and they will start searching for answers. Some will find the right answers and some won’t. One of those young ladies I saw might go to Easter Service this Sunday because her grandmother talked her into it and may accept Jesus as her savior right then. One of those young toughs might already be saved and may go to church on Sunday and recommit his life to the Lord. I don’t know.

I wish that I could have pulled all of those folks together that I saw at the convenience store and ask them if they knew what Good Friday was really all about. I wish that I could have told those that didn’t know the truth about Jesus and then convinced the ones that didn’t care that Jesus Christ’s’ death and resurrection was the single most important event in the history of the cosmos. But they all would have just thought I was some ‘Jesus Freak’ crazy dude. So I just got in my car and drove off. God will work with each of them in His time. I sometimes get a little melancholy though when I think about all of the people that simply don’t know or don’t care that Jesus died and that He died for them.

For most of the world it’s just another Friday night, a night for good times and cold beer. Even for many of those who plan on making their ‘gotta look good’ appearance to church on Easter Sunday ’cause after all it is Easter Sunday (“what’s grandma gonna think if I don’t show up?”), tonight is still just another night. And just like on that cold, moonlit night so many years ago in Jerusalem, there are a small number of us mourning the death of our Lord, but most of the rest of the world is still dancing the night away. Many don’t know, some don’t want to know, and then there are the ones that simply don’t care.
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I didn’t do a very good job at following Jesus today. In spite of my best intentions I can’t really think of anything honorable or Christian that I did do. I left for work this evening, feeling like a miserable failure. I even thought about not going to the Good Friday service at church tomorrow. “Why bother,” I said to myself, “I’m not really worthy of even being in the Church anyway. If folks at the Church knew how sorry I am at following Jesus they probably wouldn’t want me there anyway.”

“Where is my faith?” I asked myself. “Every time I think that I’m starting to be a ‘good’ Christian, I fall on my face again.” I went through the morning argument that I got into with my wife and counted all of the things that I said or did wrong. I thought about the pride that I know that I fall into even though I know that I really don’t have anything to be proud of. I’ve got to tell you, I was feeling pretty crummy about myself as I drove to work tonight.

But as I was driving to work having my own little private pity party, I got to thinking about somebody else who once was feeling like a pretty miserable failure about his ability to follow Jesus one Good Friday long ago.

Peter.

You know, the Peter who denied that he even knew who Jesus was three times after Jesus was arrested. And this was after he had the privilege of spending at least a year or two following Him around and watching Him perform miracles and raise folks from the dead. In fact, I figure that it was just about right now, this specific day and this specific time, roughly two thousand years ago that Peter had just denied Jesus for the third time. It is 3:30 A.M right now, so the cock will be crowing in a couple of hours and our Lord will be on his way to the Cross.

And what was Peter doing just about right now all of those years ago? Luke’s Gospel says that he was weeping bitterly (Luke 22:62). I imagine that Peter was feeling pretty crummy about himself. He was probably trying to figure out just how in the heck those words had come out of his mouth. He was probably feeling like a coward and a failure. He probably didn’t feel worthy of even seeing the other disciples and I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t throw himself a little pity party there in the garden.

Of course we all know the rest of the story. After Jesus’ resurrection, he takes a little time with Peter and reassures him that it’s okay. The story at the end of the Gospel of John shows the compassion and understanding that Jesus had for Peter (John 21:15-17) and Jesus tenderly tells Peter to go and feed His sheep.

As we read through Acts and Paul’s letters we find other instances of Peter’s less than exemplary behavior. He was being pretty bigoted towards the Gentiles and God had to send him a pretty extraordinary vision in Acts 10:9-22 to make him realize that he was in the wrong. Paul had to tell him in Galatians 2:11-14 what a big hypocrite that he was being. Peter at time had the tendency to make a mess of things and then he had to do just like me. Repent and try again.

I can quite often find myself identifying with Peter, at least in my character defects. Like Peter, I can sometimes get a big head and start thinking that I’m really following Jesus better that other people are and that there’s no way that I’d ever deny Him. Like Peter, I sometimes stick my foot in my mouth and say things that I shouldn’t and regret it afterwards (Matthew 16:21-23). I sometimes have a quick temper and react in ways that I regret later.

Of course, Peter had good qualities as well, but I rather doubt that he could figure out what even one of them were on that cold dark morning so many years ago while he was in the garden of Gethsemane weeping bitterly as Jesus was on trial before Caiaphas and then Pilate. But even though Peter may have sometimes wondered why in the world Jesus picked him of all people, Jesus never had any doubt in Peter. Jesus knew that Peter was the rock upon which He was going to build His Church (Matthew 16:18).

I sometimes wonder what in the world Jesus could possibly see in me. But then I realize that He sees me in ways that I don’t even realize and loves me in spite of the very worst things that I have ever done or will ever do. I don’t deserve it, but He loves me anyway. He knows the plans that He has for me, and every time I fall He is there to pick me back up again, just like He did for Peter and countless other believers all through the ages.

This day is almost over for me. I’ll get off work in a few hours and go home and to bed about the time that the Sun is coming over the horizon. As I’m driving east towards home and the rising Sun, I’ll be thinking about the Son of God who was on His way to the Cross all of those years ago. He was on the way to the Cross because He loves me and knew that He had to die so that I might live. Me and all of those who believe in Him. I imagine that I’ll probably shed a tear or two on the way home if I think about it too much. I know that I’ll probably unabashedly weep tonight at the Good Friday service at Church as I think about all of my sins that put my Lord to death on the Cross.

I know that the celebration of Easter is just a couple of days away, but I can’t celebrate quite yet. The pain of my sins and the pain that Jesus bore as He died carrying those sins, and yes, the sins of the whole world, are too heavy right now for me to feel much like celebrating.

Instead, I’ll do as Peter and the others did that tragic day and mourn. Of course, I know what Peter and the others hadn’t quite figured out yet. I have the knowledge that He will arise in three days and that we will all be celebrating that glorious event together. Peter and the others didn’t have that blessed knowledge. All they had was their grief and self-doubt. Today I will grieve with them.