“He loved them to the end.” (John 13:1)
On Maundy Thursday, Jesus knelt with basin and towel— welcoming even those who would betray Him. This is hospitality at its most costly: to open your heart knowing it may be broken.
“He was pierced for our transgressions…” (Isaiah 53:5)
On Good Friday, we walk the Via Dolorosa—not just the path Jesus took to Calvary, but the hidden roads of sorrow we each carry in our hearts.
“And then… nothing.”
Black Saturday invites us to sit in the holy silence between death and resurrection. God seems absent. Hope feels distant. But in the stillness, something sacred is happening beneath the surface.
“Were not our hearts burning within us?” (Luke 24:32)
On Easter morning, resurrection doesn’t come with trumpets— It comes with quiet steps in a garden, a name spoken gently, a stranger breaking bread.