Sunday’s Coming

April 2, 2025

On May 18, 1980, a 5.1 magnitude earthquake beneath Mount St. Helens triggered the collapse of the mountain’s north flank, unleashing the largest landslide in recorded history and a volcanic eruption with the force of 500 atomic bombs. Nearly a cubic mile of volcanic material erupted, shooting both upward and outward. The lateral blast, exceeding 300 miles per hour and reaching temperatures over 600°F, leveled 230 square miles of forest. In an instant, thousands of towering 150-foot-old Douglas firs snapped like toothpicks. Ash blanketed more than 22,000 square miles, soared over 12 miles into the atmosphere, and circled the globe in just 17 days. When the dust finally settled, Mount St. Helens had lost 1,313 feet of its peak.

Despite efforts by the Forest Service and local authorities to keep visitors away, 57 people lost their lives. Rock, snow, and ice thundered down the mountain at speeds exceeding 100 miles per hour. The eruption devastated Mount St. Helens' wildlife, claiming the lives of mountain goats, black bears, and thousands of elk and deer, along with most fish, amphibians, insects, and birds.

The mountain was literally reduced to ashes…

Yet, from the ashes, rebirth and renewal have emerged. In 1986, a new lava dome began rising within the crater, slowly rebuilding the mountain. A glacier has since taken root on the crater floor, and in early October 2004, a second lava dome began forming, growing at a rate of up to a dump truck’s worth of material every second. At this pace, scientists estimate that Mount St. Helens could reclaim its pre-1980 height of 9,677 feet in less than 200 years—a mere blink of an eye in geologic time.

Remarkably, plant and animal life have rebounded far more quickly than expected. Beetles were among the first to return, and today, over 300 species thrive. Lupines, members of the pea family, were among the earliest plants to take root in the deep volcanic ash. Scientists discovered that these hardy flowers play a crucial role in ecological recovery, enriching the soil and creating pockets of nutrients that support other plant species. In the decades since the eruption, millions of new trees have taken root, while elk, deer, cougars, bobcats, bears, birds, and fish have repopulated the once-devastated landscape.

”Never put a period where God is ready to put a comma…” In other words, don’t forget that “Sunday’s Coming.”

John Ortberg writes, “On Friday, Jesus died for love.  He said it was His choice.  It wasn’t Pilate’s.  It wasn’t Herod’s.  It wasn’t Caesar’s.  It wasn’t the chief priests’.  It wasn’t the crowds’.  He said, ‘I lay down my life for the sheep…No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.  I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again.’”

And on that Friday…amidst the hammering of nails and the crying of women…Jesus died.

Joseph of Arimathea was granted permission to lay Jesus in a tomb carved from rock, and a heavy stone was rolled across its entrance. Darkness filled not only the tomb but also the hearts of His followers—those who had believed He would be their King, ushering in God’s Kingdom, overthrowing the Roman oppressors, and restoring peace and justice.

Can we begin to grasp the depth of their despair? The sorrow of His disciples? For three years, they had walked with Jesus, learned from Him, loved Him. But more than that, they had believed. They believed He was the Messiah. They had witnessed His miracles, His healings. He had called them by name, chosen them. They were certain He was the One who would change everything.

And now, on this silent Saturday, Jesus’ body lies wrapped in linen, sealed behind a cold stone. A chilling thought lingers among them—Was He not the Messiah? Had Jesus failed? Fear, confusion, and grief must have overwhelmed them. Can you picture them huddled together, sharing memories of their friend, holding on to one another as they struggled to make sense of it all?

Ortberg writes:

This isn’t Sunday.  This isn’t Friday.  This is Saturday.  The day after this but the day before that.  The day after a prayer gets prayed but  there is no answer on the way.  The day after a soul gets crushed way down but there’s no promise of ever getting up off the mat.  It’s a strange day, this in-between day.  In between despair and joy.  In between confusion and clarity.  In between bad news and good news. In between darkness and light…Everybody knows Saturday.

Personally, my darkest Saturdays were years apart.

The first was during high school—a time when I felt lost, confused, depressed, and completely undisciplined. My dad worked long hours as a pharmacist, and my mom, while battling severe depression, went back to college. I suddenly had more freedom than I was ready to handle.

At sixteen, the girl I was dating became pregnant, and we had a little girl, Anna. The next few years blurred together—hurting my parents, moving out at sixteen, the painful unraveling of my relationship with Anna’s mom, and eventually moving back home. School became something I was just trying to get through, and I sought any escape I could find.

I remember sitting alone in my room, cutting myself. At the time, I don’t think I fully understood why, but in those moments, the physical pain briefly numbed the crushing weight of my depression and the chaos in my life. It was a dark Saturday of the soul—one that stretched on for years.

Years later, I faced another dark Saturday—a moment I describe in my book, Three Years: Making a Difference in the Time You Have Left—the day my best friend, my father, suddenly passed away from a massive heart attack at the age of fifty-seven.

As a kid, I spent countless late nights with him, building model rockets and watching Creature Feature on Saturdays. I have treasured memories of backpacking in Shenandoah, driving up Mt. Washington in a beat-up Toyota, walking Civil War battlefields, gazing down at Bar Harbor, Maine, and spending weekends in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia—the place where both my parents' ashes now rest. He loved my brother and me. He adored my mom. He was my hero.

And then, in an instant, he was gone. My wife later told me that telling me the news was the hardest thing she ever had to do.

Everybody knows Saturday…the day, as Ortberg writes, “You wake up and you’re still alive.  You have to go on, but you don’t know how.”

Paul knew about Saturdays:

Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked. Once I spent a whole night and a day adrift at sea. I have traveled many weary miles. I have faced danger from flooded rivers and from robbers. I have faced danger from my own people, the Jews, as well as from the Gentiles. I have faced danger in the cities, in the deserts, and on the stormy seas. And I have faced danger from men who claim to be Christians but are not.  I have lived with weariness and pain and sleepless nights. Often I have been hungry and thirsty and have gone without food. Often I have shivered with cold, without enough clothing to keep me warm. (2 Corinthians 11:25-30)

Many of us have not faced such trials as Paul faced, but…

·Some of us are facing cancer…

·Some of us are facing sickness…

·Some of us are facing criticism, persecution…

·Some of us are facing despair as we turn on the news to images of war, torture, moral depravity, heartache…

·Some of us are facing the unknown, as we look to the future and are not sure where God is leading us…

·Some of us are facing change, great change in our lives…

·Some of us are facing death, losing a loved one…learning how to make it on our own.

Most of us have felt the deep sorrow of Friday. We know what it’s like to wake up the next day—our Saturday—a time of lingering pain, silence, and uncertainty. Some of us are living in that Saturday season right now.

But there is hope.

Paul writes, “If God is for us, who can be against us?  He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all – how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8: 31-32).

Death will not have the final say. Cancer, illness, criticism, despair, fear, heartache, grief, and loss will not have the last word. Jesus has shown us that He will transform our suffering. Isn't this what He did with the cross – a symbol once of torture, execution, and horror? Because of Jesus, the cross is no longer, as Ortberg writes, "an expression of ultimate threat;" it has been transformed into "an expression of ultimate hope."

Paul wrote:

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us…For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8: 18, 38-39)

When Paul wrote these words, he knew something the disciples did not know when they gathered that Saturday after the crucifixion. Paul, like us, knew about Sunday!

If Paul could go back in time he would shout…

·It's Friday, Jesus is nailed dead on a cross. ...but Sunday's Coming

·It's Friday, Mary's crying her eyes out cause her baby Jesus is dead....but Sunday's Coming

·It's Friday, the disciples are running in every direction like sheep without a shepherd. ...but Sunday's Coming

·It's Friday, Pilate's strutting around washing his hands 'cause he thinks he's got all the power and the victory....but Sunday's Coming

And if he could have, Paul would have continued to shout into the next day…

·It’s Saturday, People are saying, "As things have been, so they shall always be. You can't change anything in this world"...but Sunday's Coming

·It's Saturday, Satan's doing a little jig saying, "I control the whole world"...but Sunday's Coming

·It’s Saturday, People are crying out to God finding only silence…they are filled with grief…overwhelmed with fear of the future…but Sunday’s Coming

Jesus defeated death and birthed a new day…Sunday!

Peter writes:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.  (I Peter 1:3-6)

Many of you have felt the pain of Friday. Some of you are in a Saturday season right now. It’s hard, stressful, confusing, and it hurts. But amid it all, cry out to God—whether in despair, anger, complaint, or hope. Face your Fridays and Saturdays with Christ, the One who understands and walks with you through the pain.

And remember this… Sunday’s coming!