The sun was getting higher, the temperature climbing. The sound of soldiers laughing and debating, then finally dividing the clothing, wafted over the hilltop. There was the taunting: first the leaders – the Pharisees and Sadducees and scribes. Then the soldiers joined in. Finally, even one of the two thieves hung on the next cross over was making fun. Just as the sun was reaching the top of its path, though, it abruptly went out just as if someone had turned off the switch.

That is, if they had switches back then.

For three hours, a palpable darkness came over the whole land. In John 23:45, though, just before the darkness lifted, Jesus cried out, “Father, into your had I commend my spirit.” And with that, after 33 years on earth, more than 3 years of public ministry, thousands of people fed, hundreds of miles walked, dozens of messages and parables and conversations, and countless healings and conversations, Jesus was dead.

Given Luke’s commitment to present an eyewitness account of Jesus’ life and ministry, you would think he would have sought out the disciples to get their reactions. What did Peter, James, and John, Jesus’ inner circle do when they learned that he was dead? How did the other nine respond?

But they were nowhere to be found.

Instead, starting in Luke 23:50, we see the reaction of complete strangers of a complete stranger and some no-name women. Just as though someone had dropped a nuclear bomb, Jesus was dead, and all the regulars were gone.

While the sun returned, make no mistake, it was the darkest day in history.

Some of us need not imagine too hard. We have had a darkest day. Perhaps we are going through it right now. For others, of course, this is something we have yet to experience. Regardless of which camp you are in, rest assured: it’s coming.

On the darkest day, it seems like everywhere we look, we see war, famine, unemployment, underemployment. Cars break down. Violence and crime. Broken marriages and homes.

In the responses of this stranger and these no-name women, then, we find some essential observations for life in a Good Friday world.

We have regrets.

Consider, for example, Luke 23:50-51: “There was a good and righteous man named Joseph, a member of the Sanhedrin, who had not agreed with their plan and action. He was from Arimathea, a Judean town, and was looking forward to the kingdom of God.” Here, we are introduced to Joseph, a man from Arimathea. This, however, is the first and last time that he appears in Scripture. There has been some conjecture about where Arimathea is, but the truth is that we really do not know.

In fact, all we really know about this guy is what we find in these couple of verses: he was a member of the council or Sanhedrin, he was “a good and righteous man,” and he “had not agreed with [the rest of the council’s] plan and action” to arrest and crucify Jesus. Why did he not agree? Because he “was looking forward to the kingdom of God.”

Luke hints at what John makes clear: Joseph was a secret follower of Jesus.

For months, Joseph had been following Jesus from a distance. He could not always go to where Jesus was for fear of people finding out, mind you, but he went whenever he could. The rest of the time, he paid close attention to the regular reports brought back to the Sanhedrin about where Jesus was, what he was saying and doing. And he paid close attention to how the other council members were responding. When Jesus arrived in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, then, I imagine Joseph was ecstatic. Was this it? Was the kingdom of God finally come?

But then, his colleagues confronted Jesus about the things the crowd was shouting, and Joseph just stood back and kept quiet, hoping no one would notice him.

When Jesus threw the merchants out of the temple, embarrassing the Sanhedrin – they had, after all, been the ones to allow the merchants to set up shop in the court of Gentiles – I imagine Joseph bit his tongue as they ranted and railed.

And when Jesus criticized them directly, and they resolved to kill him, Joseph was alarmed, but they had talked like this before. In fact, several other times through Jesus’ ministry, the Sanhedrin had plotted to kill him. Nothing had ever come of those times, so Joseph said nothing now.

But then, very early Friday morning, news came to Joseph that Jesus had been arrested, and things became a blur.

Perhaps someone on the council had heard that he was sympathetic to Jesus, and so they did not send for him in time to attend the trials. Perhaps he hastily threw on some clothes and raced across town to witness the trials, but when he saw how rabid the rest of the council members were, he held his tongue once more in fear. The truth is, we do not know exactly what happened. We know only that Luke tells us that Joseph disagreed with the plan and the action, but Mark tells us that “all of them condemned him as deserving death” (Mark 14:64).

However it all went down, as we read these two verses in Luke, we find in Joseph a man with deeply profound regrets. Why did he not say something? Why did he not do something? Why did he not follow Jesus when he had the chance?

Make no mistake, regret is a hallmark of the Good Friday world. We are all familiar with it. We did something we should not have done, or we did not do something we should have done. We said the wrong thing, or we just did not say the right thing. We could have, should have, would have…

So often, this is our mantra.

Yes, in a Good Friday world, we have regrets.

We need courage.

Yet, we something else in Joseph. Yes, he had these regrets, but in verse 52, it was Joseph who went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. And believe me, this was a big deal! Have you ever heard of the phrase, “Guilt by association”? In the Roman world, crucifixion was reserved for the worst of the worst, the enemies of the state. Typically, these were allowed to hang on the cross for days even after their death so that their flesh would be picked at by animals and birds, and if anyone dared come to claim the body before that could happen, it was assumed that they were sympathizers: they could be nailed up on the next cross.

Of course, Joseph had the advantage of being a member of the Sanhedrin, so he could imply that the council wanted him to have the body. But it was still risky. Would someone rat him out? Would he be tacked up beside Jesus?

It was, then, a pretty courageous thing for Joseph to go to Pilate and ask for the body. Yet, Joseph did not stop there. In verse 53, he took the body down, wrapped it in linen cloth, and laid it in his own brand new tomb. It was one thing to take the body down and bury it hastily in the potter’s field, where they put the poor and criminals. But Joseph actually took care of the body! It is pretty hard to claim you do not sympathize with someone when you donate your grave for their use.

Yes, it was s a pretty courageous thing for Joseph to do.

Unfortunately, we often mistake courage for the lack of fear, but courage is more accurately defined as a resolve to do the right thing, even when it’s scary. In the Old Testament, courage was a prominent theme. In fact, the word appears 98 times in the HCSB translation. In each case, there was something scary that needed to be done in order to correct something that was wrong, and one or two people, perhaps a small handful, stood up to make it happen.

The thing is, though, courage was not something that God just handed out. In Joshua 1, God commanded Joshua to be strong and courageous. Courage is our responsibility.

If we are going to live in a Good Friday world, we need courage. It is not that we are not afraid, because we may very well be terrified. Rather, it is that, despite our fear, we are committed to doing the right thing.

We have disappointment.

At this point in Luke’s narrative, in Luke 23:45-55, the spotlight shifts from the unknown stranger to the unnamed women. For whatever reason, Luke simply omitted their names. Perhaps their names were not important. Luke did, however, provide us one crucial bit of information: they “had come with [Jesus] from Galilee.” That is, they had been following Jesus for months, witnessing his miracles, hanging on his every word. They had been among the crowd shouting “Hosanna!” and “Blessed is the king!”

Yes, they had expected Jesus to save Israel from the Roman oppressors and then be crowned king, but instead, in verse 55, they “followed along and observed the tomb and how His body was placed.”

That is disappointment, and it is an inescapable part of living in a Good Friday world. We have disappointment.

We expected that new job, the perfect spouse, cute and cuddly children. Instead, we get a rejection letter. He leaves his dirty socks in the middle of the bedroom floor or works too late. She is a terrible cook. And children are not nearly so cute and cuddly when they are screaming their heads off at 2:00 am.

Some of this disappointment may be the result of ill will. That is true. But it is also true that disappointment just happens. In fact, Jesus warned his disciples that this would all happen. He had told them explicitly that he was going to Jerusalem to die, and yet, they still got their hopes up. They were still disappointed.

In a Good Friday world, we have disappointment.

We need hope.

But it was even worse than that. In verse 54, we discover that Jesus died on “preparation day.” That is, he died on Friday. More specifically, he died at about 3:00 pm Friday afternoon, and so, by the time all the paperwork was filled out and Jesus’ body was released, the shadows were starting to grow long.

That is important because the Jews counted their days from sunset to sunset, and they called Friday “preparation day” because at sunset Friday, the Sabbath began. All the shops in town closed. No work could be done.

In other words, despite Joseph’s best efforts, there was no time to give Jesus a proper burial.

So in verse 56, we discover what may be the most unsatisfying ending to any story ever: “Then [the women] returned and prepared spices and perfumes. And they rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment.”

Talk about bleak.

Ken Heer, in his commentary on Luke, observed, “It is hard to look at the events of this day and see the hand of God in them. Evil men had their way with the Son of God. The One who promised life died. The life of the King was brutally ended before He could come into His kingdom. There was nothing left to do by those who believed in Him but to complete His burial, and by doing so they would bury their hopes for a redeemer.”

Sometimes, in a Good Friday world, all hope seems lost. We find ourselves alone in the dark, and it seems as though there is no light anywhere to be found.

It is a good thing, then, that this was not the end of the story. Luke does not end with Luke 23:56. And in fact, as we turn the page, the first word of chapter 24 is huge:

But…

Things were about to change.

Now, that is easy for us to say two thousand years after the fact. In the moment, the hopelessness of these women was undeniable. It was real. And it was overwhelming.

Indeed, in the moment, the hopelessness of our Good Friday world can be overwhelming.

In the moment, when all hope seems lost, the good news of Good Friday – the only reason we can call it good at all – is that this was not the end!

And as dark as this Good Friday World may be, we who believe in Jesus yet have that hope: But on Sunday, the stone would be rolled away and the tomb empty because Good Friday was not the end.

Today, we all live in this Good Friday World. Perhaps you are right now living your darkest day. Perhaps that day is yet to come. Regardless, know that this is not the end of the story.

Several years ago, S. M. Lockridge, pastor of Calvary Baptist Church in San Diego, CA, delivered a poignant Easter meditation. His words resound today as we press on in this Good Friday World:

It’s Friday Jesus is praying Peter’s a sleeping Judas is betraying But Sunday’s comin’

It’s Friday Pilate’s struggling The council is conspiring The crowd is vilifying They don’t even know That Sunday’s comin’

It’s Friday The disciples are running Like sheep without a shepherd Mary’s crying Peter is denying But they don’t know That Sunday’s a comin’

It’s Friday The Romans beat my Jesus They robe him in scarlet They crown him with thorns But they don’t know That Sunday’s comin’

It’s Friday See Jesus walking to Calvary His blood dripping His body stumbling And his spirit’s burdened But you see, it’s only Friday Sunday’s comin’

It’s Friday The world’s winning People are sinning And evil’s grinning

It’s Friday The soldiers nail my Savior’s hands To the cross They nail my Savior’s feet To the cross And then they raise him up Next to criminals

It’s Friday But let me tell you something Sunday’s comin’

It’s Friday The disciples are questioning What has happened to their King And the Pharisees are celebrating That their scheming Has been achieved But they don’t know It’s only Friday Sunday’s comin’

It’s Friday He’s hanging on the cross Feeling forsaken by his Father Left alone and dying Can nobody save him? Ooooh It’s Friday But Sunday’s comin’

It’s Friday The earth trembles The sky grows dark My King yields his spirit

It’s Friday Hope is lost Death has won Sin has conquered and Satan’s just a laughin’

It’s Friday Jesus is buried A soldier stands guard And a rock is rolled into place

But it’s Friday It is only Friday Sunday is a comin’!

It’s even more powerful in video form! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRiIpsbJW8o