Since last Sunday or the Palm Sunday, I’ve been meaning to relive the moments of a sacred week, but sadly, it has become more of a hectic and work-packed week. Yesterday was Maundy Thursday and I spent the day watching movies late into the night. At some point of time I thought I heard the voice of Christ, reprimanding His disciples to stay awake and pray with Him while they quickly fell into deep sleep once again. And it is now the day of His sacrifice, the moment that the earth shook and the skies broke when He last murmured the word, “it is finished” had long passed. There was coincidentally a sudden storm this afternoon and the smell of the vinegar, one that one of those men could have dipped into the cloth to bring to His lips was kind of vivid in my mind. Lethargy more than nostalgia would describe how I am feeling right now, and I feel like having a glass of red wine, perhaps to relish the taste of the fruit that the apostles may have had then. As I lied on the bed the cock may have crowed thrice alongside Peter’s denial of His master and now the people may weep and soon the women will visit the tomb and all they will find is an empty tomb. I just want to give thanks to all that has happened then and after, and to prepare my heart and mind and strength and spirit before we belt out the grandeur of the hymns in Thanksgiving to His holiness.
TGIF-Thank God for (Good) Friday and may we all have a blessed Easter. (Sunday)