It was 4 in the afternoon. It looked more like midnight, not just because of the physical darkness, which was so thick it felt like you could touch and taste it, but because of the spiritual darkness, the hopelessness, that engulfed many of the onlookers still standing near the cross. The man they had hoped would wrest the kingdom of Israel from the Romans and restore it to its rightful owners, now hung limp and bloody, nails fastening His hands and feet to the rough hewn wood. Their hopes were forever shattered. The next day would be darker still, for those nearby would wake up to realize that the rest of their lives would be exactly like this.

For them, there was no concept of a resurrection. There was just the shattered pieces of their hopes and dreams. Evil had triumphed.

Those who’d hoped in Jesus that day witnessed the two darkest days in history. But death didn’t triumph. The stone rolled away. The tomb opened. Jesus rose.

Meanwhile, the world held its collective breath. Would God the Father find His Son’s sacrifice acceptable, raise Him from death, and call the debt of sin paid?

On that good Friday, Sunday seemed an eternity away.

But on Sunday morning, the women returned from the tomb breathlessly. The stone had been rolled back. The tomb was desserted. All that remained were the burial wrappings. And while Jesus’s followers still didn’t understand fully what had taken place, something minuscule stirred in each of their spirits, the hope that somehow, against all odds, He was alive!

It’s hard living in the constant in-between of a world where, although evil has been defeated, it has not yet been entirely subdued. We wrestle daily w/the evil all around us, from minor annoyances to shattered hopes and dreams and lives. But we know there will come a shining day when all things will be brought under God’s authority, and all evil will be banished. Till then, we cling to the hope of the resurrection. And we agree w/those 2 devils. They had indeed been had.