#Sunday is coming

[momentsbeforemass]

Good Friday

The more you think about it, the worse it gets.

No part of the Passion Gospel, the Gospel for Good Friday, has any hope.

Even the tender moments – Jesus asking John to take care of his mother, Joseph and Nicodemus making sure that Jesus has a proper burial – they’re just people dealing with the fallout from death.

You know what Joseph and Nicodemus are thinking about while they’re wrapping Jesus’ body up for burial? How much this sucks.

And whether the Romans will stop at killing Jesus. Or will they, and other followers of Jesus, be next?

The more you think about it, the worse it gets.

You know what Joseph and Nicodemus aren’t thinking about? How anything good can come from this.

Much less how God is already using all of it to do more good than either of them, or anyone on Good Friday, could ever imagine.

And yet, you and I know, that’s exactly what’s happening. Because you and I know something that Joseph and Nicodemus don’t know. Not on that worst of Friday’s.

They don’t know that Sunday is coming.

But that’s how it is, when you’re where they are. When you are right in the middle of the very worst.

When you and I are right in the middle of the very worst, there is nothing that human eyes can see to tell us that it’s ever going to get any better.

When that’s where you are, the only open question is whether it’s going to get worse.

In the middle of everything that you are dealing with right now – whether it’s death or illness, divorce or the end of a friendship, job loss or financial problems – while you’re waiting to see whether you’ve hit bottom or if it’s going to get worse. You get Joseph and Nicodemus. You are right there with them.

The more you think about what you’re dealing with, the worse it gets.

There’s nothing that our human eyes can see to tell us that anything good can come from what you’re going through.

And yet, you and I know, that’s not true.

Because you and I know something. Something that’s easy to lose sight of when you’re in the middle. Something that’s hard to hold onto when you’re scared.

But it doesn’t matter. It’s okay if we lose sight of it. Because it’s still true. Even if we’re scared. 

Today is Good Friday. And Good Friday shows us that none of it, not even the very worst, can hold down our God.

Because Sunday is coming.

Today’s Readings

[renee-writer]

[majesticwatermagic]

The veil is torn!

Why are you distant, beloved? The veil is torn.

[snoopcar]

first meet

[donutdrawsthings]

Bonus:

[ovenproofowl]

i'm dying over that reveal. truly. truly. because on paper, the concept that ruby's mother was just an ordinary person and what made her so special was this belief everyone had feeding into her own mythology, creating something larger than life, is actually pretty cool. and, yeah, from wild blue yonder we know the doctor absolutely handed the power of suggestion over to an unknown entity that made it something tangible.. so it works.

sort of

but like. that 15 year old girl decided to drop her baby off at a church in the middle of the night in the most ostentatious, medieval looking cloak and then proceed to point mencingly at the road sign on the off chance the security camera would pick her up and that would somehow give someone the idea to name her daughter after said road sign??

i'm just saying... if that's the way you handle giving your baby up for adoption then there is absolutely nothing ordinary about you

[zongzhii]

birds are born with no shackles

[holographings]

my softest, beigest pillow

[claraoswalds]

It's funny, 'cause I wonder where the TARDIS goes at random. Maybe it lands on some outcrop by the sea. And there's a tribe and they worship it for 100 years. Then they grow up and try to burn it. Then they get wise. They preserve it. Then they build a city all around it, till the TARDIS is just a tiny little dot, surrounded by skyscrapers and monorails. Time passes and the city falls. It all gets swept away. And there's the TARDIS... still on its outcrop... by the sea.

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 6

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5]

[faithschaffer]

new grid paper ink drawings!

[bakubonez]

Sunday x GN! Reader || fluff

Summary: After a stressful couple days, Sunday asked you to wash his hair. 🦭

A/N: I’m falling for the Sunday propaganda plz save me

It had taken ages to get Sunday to trust you. Albeit many gifts and hours spent together later, your hard work had paid off. Sunday had lowered his carefully constructed walls, allowing you to weasel your way into finding a place in his heart. Nowadays, he can’t fathom why he used to push you away—you were far too sweet to discard.

He’d come to trust you enough to let you wash his hair, and groom his wings. More often than not, he’d do it himself—taking time to sit in front of the mirror to smooth down his soft, pillowy feathers or stand under the shower in silence as the water ran through his hair, down his back. Now, though, he didn’t have to do it completely alone. He quite enjoyed it when you helped him, actually.

At first, he hadn’t been completely sold on the idea. It was a lot of trust that he had to place in you, to let you look after him for a bit.

He’d have to surrender himself to you and lower his guard, and that felt mildly off putting at a stage. Despite his initial hesitance, the first time you actually rinsed his hair and tended to his wings, he knew he was hooked.

The gentle nature of your touch was something he’d always found himself appreciating, and he hoped and prayed that he could offer you the same feeling, but now that he knew what it was like to be pampered by the very same hands that brought him so much comfort in his day to day life, he couldn’t get enough of it.

Sunday was much too sheepish to outright ask you to bathe with him, especially not often, so the activity has been reserved for special occasions, by his own doing.

Tonight was one of those occasions.

Being the man that Sunday was, he had a lot on his plate, all the time. There were very few moments in which he could take refuge from his work and truly rest. Even in his free time, his mind was often plagued by anxieties about his upcoming tasks.

Recently, though, he’d been under extra strain especially. And so, logically, he’d come to you for comfort.

You raked your fingers across his scalp, hands lathered in some pleasant smelling shampoo that Sunday had chosen. His eyes were shut, sitting peacefully in the water of the bath. Steam clouded the mirrors, and left little beads of water dripping down the walls.

It was mostly silent, aside from a soft melody playing in the background that Sunday had put on before getting into the tub.

Once, you’d been hesitant to touch Sunday’s wings. You weren’t sure if they’d be too sensitive, or if he’d tell you off for it, perhaps—now, though, you touched them with little uncertainty.

So long as you were gentle, like you were being now, you could touch them all you wanted.

His feathers were so soft, almost unbelievably so. They twitch and shift under your grasp, but not for a bad reason; more so that it was mildly ticklish, despite how much you’d touched them in the past already.

You hear Sunday exhale quietly as you rub behind his ears, and along the topside of his wings. His faith in you always brings a smile to your face, leaving a warm, comforting feeling in your heart.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Thank you for what, you’re tempted to ask, but you get the sense that you already know what for—you. You, being with him. You, taking the time to care for him. You, having the patience to stick by him, even when it gets difficult.

You simply murmur a soft ‘mhm’ in response, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before resuming your motions. You needn’t say more.

[mwagneto]

their reactions are so fucking good too... the doctor just raging in disbelief coz this is the first time he's ever experienced this and he has to somehow process that these people would rather die than go with him and he knows he could've saved them if he was any of his other selves. while ruby is just crying and trying to be there for him coz she must've been through this hundreds of times already with her mum and gran......

[annqer]

my only goal in life is to make horror rpg maker-esque sunday art and have it in a sick edit