Darkness at Noon

“And on that day,” declares the Lord God, “I will make the sun go down at noon and darken the earth in broad daylight. I will turn your feasts into mourning and all your songs into lamentation; I will bring sackcloth on every waist and baldness on every head; I will make it like the mourning for an only son and the end of it like a bitter day.” (Amos 8:9-10 ESV).

Today is known throughout the Christian world as “Good Friday.” It is the day of the crucifixion of Jesus. There was a darkness that covered the scene (cf. Matthew 27:45). In a memorable sermon, Frederick Buechner preached about what he called the “hungering dark.” The sermon was delivered in the late 1960s, a time of great social and political unrest in North America. Buechner suggested that “darkness” was a fitting description for the assassinations, dread of war, and riots at that time. But he also spoke of how darkness intensifies our craving for the light of Christ’s presence. It is a message that can be applied in many ways today. The sermon from Buechner detailed the way the “hungering dark” is like our physical hunger. It is true that we are probably no more aware of our need for food than when we are hungry. Hunger is as much a craving for fullness as it is a testimony to emptiness. Through the prophet Amos, God said that the judgment to come would be characterized by both darkness and hunger. The sun would go dark at noon, and people would hunger for words of God that they could not find, no matter where they looked. That judgment is what Jesus experienced on the cross. Immediately after the darkness, Jesus cried out to God, hungering for responses that never came. The Word of God fell silent amid the darkness at Golgotha. He had suffered the full penalty of all our sin. He had taken all our judgment on Himself. He paid the debt we could never pay and died the death we all deserve. But that’s not all. On the cross we also see Jesus, the light of the world who pierces our darkness. And we receive the bread of life that satisfies our deepest hunger. This is why we can legitimately call this day “good.” While there is nothing good about the manner or fact of Jesus’ death, it is all good in the morning of this coming Sunday. This is not a time for mourning. It is a time for rejoicing! In Jesus’ death we are now forever and finally set free to live the life God has intended for each of us since the beginning. I know it doesn’t feel like a time to rejoice as we face the ever increasing crises of our day; however, just as Sunday came then, it will come for each of us!