In the Middle of Holy Week: Wednesday

Wednesdays are the days that are in-between the ones that have passed before and the ones that are yet to be. It’s the hump day of the week. Often, I will say, “If we can just through the hump day, the rest of the week is down hill. I doubt that Jesus felt this way, though. Down hill for Jesus in the middle of Holy Week meant the march to death and utter rejection. But on the Wednesdays of such weeks we pause, catch our breath before we move on and so forth.

Wednesdays are the days we are caught in the middle.

 

It’s the twenty year mark of the forty years spent in the wilderness. It’s how you feel when you’ve fed 2000 of the 5,000 waiting to be filled. You’d had a good start but you have a long, long way to go to finish. On Wednesday, there’s no getting around it, you’re in the middle of something. It’s the day of your vacation that you finally can breath–finally know that all the work, all the packing, all the hassle might have been worth it. But, in the midst of it all you can also look up and feel like it’s going to be over all too soon.

 

The in-between days are days that can be monotonous and long. The in-between days are the days that right, smack dab in the middle of a long week and you know you’re not leaving on your trip yet for a couple more days.

 

They are days of endurance. Like Jesus in the midst of what we now know is Holy Week, nothing really happened important on this Wednesday. But tomorrow, everything changes as it often does. Thursdays bring new challenges that only the weekends can forgive. Wednesdays are days to hang in there…not to go back because there is nothing in the past for us—only what lies ahead in the rest of the week.

 

It is in the in-between times of our lives that so many of us fight with great fervor. In- between jobs; in-between houses, in-between churches and in between relationships. It’s a long, long day that has little stretch, give and significance.

 

Wednesdays are like the middle child. Always accepting of the others and knowing one’s place the family of the other days of the week. It’s not a solid beginning nor does it have the drama of a last born day of the week or child. It’s a gentle day that can often go overlooked.

 

I think it was one of those in-between days when David slept with Bathsheba, his mistress. When he was tired, bored and looking for love in all the wrong places. I think it was probably a Wednesday, when the disciples fought over who’d replace Jesus and who would be the greatest in the kingdom—the weekends would have brought responsibility, mission and focus. But Wednesday conversations allow us time to ponder what we would not ponder on other important days of the week—like on Monday morning when we’re headed out after the long, good weekend. Or some other really good time of the week that you find yourself looking forward to as the week unfold.

 

As far as we know, the Wednesday before the Thursday of Holy week just may have been the day when Jesus went to the home of Mary—when she anointed him with oil. Jesus could have used that mid-week refreshment knowing that was lying ahead in wait for him.

 

Go ahead. Sigh that deep breath out and take a break. It’s Wednesday—a long day to catch your breath and to eagerly look forward to what is going to unfold tomorrow. Because when tomorrow comes—when Thursday arrives—everything is going to be different—really different.

On the Wednesday of Holy Week, we have a break before the intensity begins. Today, we stop, pause and sigh because we know what it’s going to be like. It’s going to be intense. Cruel. Vile and ugly and one needs a day like a Wednesday in order to prepare.

Wednesdays begin the long vigil of waiting for the redemption. The redemption comes on Sunday but for now we have to just wait.