I’m enjoying riding my bicycle on our favorite New Jersey seashore town’s 4-mile-long boardwalk when a flock of noisy seagulls flies directly overhead. Obviously, they’ve had a rather ample breakfast and are in need of you-know-what, which lands right on the back of my jacket with a noticeable plop. Great start to my day! Thanks, rude and crude fine feathered friends!

Later that day, my wife and I attend an annual festival celebrating I forget what. Who knows? All I did know was that one of my favorite TV comedians from way back when would be there in person. Soupy Sales! But recently the poor guy has suffered a terrible stroke and obviously is having a hard time with it all.

One of Soupy’s television schticks was a pie in the face. So, we were given pies filled with shaving creme to shove in each other’s faces. Such fun except when the lady next to me, before the okay is given, turns and grinds her pie directly in my left ear and then smooshes it some more.

I hate and fear a clogged ear. Always have. Produces a panic attack. And I had one that day. A big one that my wife helps me get out of by using a hairdryer to melt the shaving stuff while offering to play a card game to calm me down only to beat me unmercifully. That helped! It was one of those days.

But all that silly stuff of mine is nothing, even less than nothing if that’s possible, in comparison with what Jesus experiences on what turns out to be His last day. Think of all that He goes through. As in the failure of His closest friends and followers. He only has twelve. One sells Him for a lowball price, becoming a traitor of the worst kind.

Then Simon Peter, the main apostle, hovering at the outskirts of one of Jesus’ trials, when confronted claims he never knew this man Jesus. Hasn’t a clue who they’re talking about. Feeling cornered, he curses a blue streak with further denials. With friends like this, well, you know.

The rest of those twelve? They high-tail it out of Dodge. Run for their lives. When Jesus needs them the most, they’re not to be found. Oh, yes, the Apostle John and some others mosey on back, hanging out in the shadows, hoping the spotlight ignores them. Only the women stay faithful to their Lord. And they’re only a handful.

The day continues with some unsuspecting pilgrim from North Africa being commandeered to carry Jesus’ cross. Then a thief, a convicted crook, exhibits faith at the very last second. A Roman centurion, a Gentile, who guards Jesus’ crucifixion site, exclaims that this man is much more than that. He’s the Son of God. A few members of the high mucky-muck religious leadership, the Sanhedrin, ask for Jesus’ body so they can bury Him in a nearby tomb.

Quite a day Jesus has. But it becomes a day when all the tables will be turned from death to life. Like no other, it’s a day that ushers in the end of darkness and death. Where light and life will shine forever. It’s the Day of our Lord Jesus Christ! His day for you and me. Shouldn’t that thought make us more grateful to our Lord? Give thanksgiving to Jesus? All week long?

Seagulls, clogged ears, and faithless followers won’t have the last say. Hear what the angel says–‘…Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen, he is not here…’ (Mark 16: 6).

Lord Jesus, thank you for being my risen Savior forever. Amen.