God transforms our hardest days, our “Good Fridays,” into the glorious victories of Easter. But He does so in His time and way, and we must trust Him.
“How was your day?” Nancy asked as I trudged in the door from work.
“Good,” I replied, with drawn face, slumped shoulders, and a shuffling gait.
Nancy frowned, “You look like it was awful.”
“No,” I said, “Every day above ground is a good day.”
“Mark, I am your wife. You need to tell me the truth – not just lies that you think that I want to hear.”
“Today was good, in the same way that Good Friday was good. Jesus died a horrific death, but God worked wondrous acts and eternal salvation from it,” I answered.
Nancy gave up the questions and followed me to the bedroom. I changed my clothes and laid on the bed where she gave me a back rub. Finally in a safe place with people who cared, the tension rolled out of my muscles. The gates to my heart, shut tight at work since I had to be, or at least appear to be, the perfect doctor and leader, cracked open. Soon Nancy brought love into my dark castle, and we began to heal.