It was about the sixth hour . . .

I was working at home this afternoon. It was about the sixth hour. Sometime between the sixth and ninth hour as a matter of fact.

I do that on Good Friday. I carry on with work. From time to time through out the day it crossed my mind that this is the day we remember the trial and death of Jesus. I had to be in court at eight this morning. The verdict would have been in for Jesus by the time we got started good. It was surreal carrying on as usual while remembering the events of Jesus' day. Our activities seemed so trivial, so meaningless. I suspect it wasn't much different in Jerusalem. We concentrate on the few folks who were paying attention. But I'm betting most in the city didn't have a clue that the history of the world was turning on a dime (or a mite i suppose) right down the street. But then, sometime around the sixth hour, the sky turned dark as night. Lots of weird things happened. Darkess, earthquake, dead folks walking the street. Lasted about three hours.

So this afternoon I was working on some pleadings at home. The sky was not particularly dark, but the wind started to howl. And it did not stop. I looked out the back window up into the woods and watched as the trees seemed to bow almost to the ground. I've never seen anything like it. Remembering the sweetgum tree incident of a couple of weeks ago, it got my attention.

But I needed to finish my work; my attention waned.

Until something cracked like a rifle shot, followed by an explosion. Then it got dark. At least in my house. The power had gone out.

I ran outside, thinking that the rest of the sweetgum tree had fallen on my car. But it had not.

Then I looked down the hill at my parents' house about fifty yards away. I could barely see it. Not because it was dark, but because a big red oak had fallen across the yard, taking down the power lines, and crushing part of the roof. I could not tell how bad the damage was. As the wind still howled I was paralyzed with fear for a few seconds. I did not want to have to go see what had happened.

But my parents were in the house. I had just left them a few minutes before. I had to go see what happened, if they were alright.

Avoiding fallen power lines and a big old tree blocking the whole front of the house I made it to the back door about the time my dad was coming out. They were fine.

It made for an interesting Good Friday afternoon. Surrounded by the awesome power of God's creation as the wind forced the trees to bow, and some to break, I was still able to ignore it all and retreat into my own importance.

Until it all blew up and trees blew over. I couldn't ignore it any longer. Things changed in an instant.

My world is back to normal, except for the big honking red oak tree lying across my parents' front yard, sidewalk and steps.

But on that original Good Friday, with the words "It is finished," everything changed.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

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