It's Friday, But Sunday's Coming - old man talking

The late S. M. Lockridge was pastor of Calvary Baptist Church is San Diego, CA from 1953 to 1993. A big man with a powerful voice, his sermon “It’s Friday, But Sunday’s Coming” wasn’t long, a mere 15 lines as it was originally written, was one of the most stirring pieces of poetry I’ve ever heard. I had the privilege of hearing Dr. Lockridge deliver the sermon twice when I was young. The way he started slow, almost as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue, set up a powerful and thunderous ending that left goose bumps on the skin of everyone within earshot. He would occasionally alter his text to fit a particular situation, but his message was always the same: No matter how dark and hopeless things seem, hold on, there’s a Sunday coming and there’s hope in that resurrection.

The world we live in today Is dramatically different from when I first heard the sermon, but the struggles that allowed Lockridge to deliver such powerful words, from Jim Crow laws and public lynchings to the struggle for civil rights are, sadly, just as real and prevalent today as they were across the 20th century. I cannot help but think that the pastor would look at where we are today as a society and be profoundly disappointed.

As this is Holy Week on the Christian liturgical calendar, I found the sermon coming to mind yet again but couldn’t help but feel that were he writing today Rev. Lockridge would possibly take a slightly different direction. I don’t claim to have the gift of poetry or clarity that he did by any stretch of the imagination, but perhaps, just maybe, if the sermon was being delivered today, it might go something like this.

Click here to listen to the Old Man read the poem

It’s Friday.

People are praying,
A party is sleeping,
An ogre is betraying.

But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday.

Judge’s struggling,
Congress is conspiring,
Church people are vilifying,
And they don’t even know

That Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday.

Immigrants are running
Like those whose homes have been destroyed,
Mothers are crying,
A government’s denying,
But they don’t know

That Sunday’s a comin’.

It’s Friday.

Racists beat people of color,
They tell us to go home,
Police kill us in the streets,
But they don’t know

That Sunday’s a comin’.

It’s Friday.

See our LGBTQ brothers and sisters,
Making their way up that Capitol Hill,
Their spirit’s burdened with ev’ry step,
But you see,
It’s only Friday.
Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday.

The ogre’s winning,
Church people are sinning,
Evil is grinning.

It’s Friday.

Police nail the black soul to the cross.
ICE nails the brown soul to the cross.
The gay soul is held equal with criminals.

It’s Friday,

But let me tell you something.

Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday.

People of compassion are questioning what has happened.
The Ogre’s advisors are celebrating
That their scheming
Has been achieved,
But they don’t know

That Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday.

The soul of a nation
Has been hung out to dry;
Feeling forsaken by their leaders,
Left alone, Democracy is dying.
Can nobody save it?

Oh, dear soul, It’s Friday,

But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday.

Skies grow dark,
Storms rage stronger than ever,
An abused and misused planet
Yields to it’s changing climate.

It’s Friday.

Hope is lost.
Death has won.
Evil has conquered and
The ogre’s just a laughin’.

It’s FRIDAY!

Democracy is buried.
Minions stand guard.
A wall is rolled into place.

But … It’s Friday.

It’s only FRIDAY.

But SUNDAY IS COMING!

My dear friends, resurrection and revolution can look an awful lot alike. While situations may seem dark and hopeless and the situation could very well get worse over the course of the next year, this is only 2019.

2020 is coming.

There’s an election around that corner that no wall can stop, no Russian interference can sway, and no attempt to obstruct justice can prevent.

It may be Friday,

But our Sunday is coming.

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