If today was the day of 33 AD, these exclamations would be your appraisal of the events of that historic Friday:   Finished!  Epic life ended!  Last chapter of a miraculous life has closed with a tragedy!

The Messiah you had been following had been nothing more than a grandiose dreamer and your dream had ended in a nightmare.  In stunned silence and in a state of shock, you would have wondered:  What now?  How could all of this happen?  How could so many people have believed a lie?

A cloud of despair was hanging heavily on the hearts of those who had believed.  Friday had been an arduous day, but at least there had been a lot of activity.  When they woke up Saturday morning, they hoped that yesterday was just a bad dream.  When they looked into the sunken eyes of the other disciples, reality hit them hard in the face:  Their Hope had been crucified, and He was dead; and, Saturday seemed like it would never end.

From the today of those disciples to the present hour, there is a perceptional gap that is every bit as deep as it is wide in years.  Because we have the benefit of history, we look forward to Sunday and Easter with eager anticipation.  All they had was a form of spiritual PTSD and the stench of death.

On the next day there was a dramatic change. There was an encore to what they thought had been the final Act, and it was announced to those few devoted women who went to the tomb:  He is not here; He has risen!

The fact of the resurrection turned men of cowardly hearts into courageous soldiers of the cross, and in a few short years the infant church shook Rome.  This is the power of hope.

Tomorrow is the next day, and it is a day of hope; and, every next day is a day of hope when it is a day full of the presence of God.