My church had its annual Good Friday service. It was another quiet meditative service where you could come and go at your own pace. There were seven stations with depictions of moments during Christ’s journey to Calvary.

Again, it was quite the moving experience. It’s easy looking back on the event through the eyes of the Resurrection to call it a good Friday, but I’m certain that it didn’t seem like a good day at the time.

The disciples were watching the one they had pinned all their hopes and dreams on being murdered in the most horrific way possible. They had seen Him carried away to be buried in a tomb.

Probably one of the worst moments in anyone’s life is when something they hoped for doesn’t come through. The Bible talks about hope deferred making the spirit sick.

True, the disciples had seen Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead. They had witnessed Him bringing others back to life. But they had never seen someone raise himself from the dead. And according to Isaiah 53, He was a mangled, bloody mess. How could He come back to life from that?

I’m thankful this Easter season that such speculation is just that– theoretical and nothing more. We who are on this side of that first Resurrection Sunday know that Jesus did indeed rise from that grave.

My favorite quote from Peter Marshall is that the stone at the tomb wasn’t rolled away so that Jesus could get out but so that the disciples could get in and see for themselves that He was no longer there.

My goal this year is to not gloss over what Easter Sunday means. I want it to sink in deep to the very core of my being. Let it start now.

“Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song” (Pope John Paul II).

“So, first and foremost, I urge God’s people to pray. They should make their requests, petitions, and thanksgivings on behalf of all humanity. Teach them to pray for kings (or anyone in high places for that matter) so that we can lead quiet, peaceful lives—reverent, godly, and holy— all of which is good and acceptable before the eyes of God our Savior who desires for everyone to be saved and know the truth. Because

I’m still thinking about all those concert ticket facsimiles all over the Nashville Municipal Auditorium. Back in its heyday, several well-known acts performed there. You could see acts like Elton John, Queen, Tom Petty, The Rolling Stones, Rush, and even Elvis Presley– all for $10 or under.

I know this is all science fiction at the moment, but I sure would like to have a DeLorean  with a flux capacitor (or some other form of time travel device) to take me back to the 70’s so I could see all this great music for a lot less than you’d pay to see any of them now. Plus, a lot of them are no longer living, like Tom Petty or Freddie Mercury of Queen.

While I grew up in the 80’s and claim that decade as my go-to for everything nostalgic, I still say that the 70’s was the absolute best decade for music. In my humble opinion, there was more diversity of music that crossed all kinds of genres and boundaries. Radio stations actually had playlists of more than 15 songs.

Oh yeah, and concert tickets were much more affordable.

I’m currently looking after a 15-year old pup named Mulligan, affectionately known as Mugs. He’s a gentle old soul who is snoozing away in one of his doggie beds at the moment.

It’s been a while since I’ve done any dog-sitting, and I’m remembering how much I like being around and taking care of dogs.

It’s a low-stress, high reward gig. This time, it’s a one night only kind of thing.

I’m enjoying it while I can. I’m hoping and praying this old boy lives at least a few more years. I’m still learning to live in the moment and not get caught up in obsessing over the past or the future.

I think I’m going to attempt to take ol’ Mugs out to potty one last time before I call it a night.

It’s a good life.

Apparently, there was a sporting event of some sort today, and Gryffindor came away with another Quiddich victory. I imagine that they also caught the golden snitch.

I’m actually aware that the team in question is Loyola-Chicago, sporting the colors of that fabled house from the Harry Potter books and movies. They and their 98-year old fan, Sister Jean Dolores-Schmidt are capturing the hearts and imaginations of basketball fans all over the nation.

When the tournament began, very few gave them much of a chance of advancing out of the first round. The odds of them making it to the Elite Eight were probably something close to the odds of me bowling a 300 game or winning the jackpot. In other words, not good at all.

Yet here they are, still standing while other better known and higher seeded teams are headed home, including some fabled programs who are familiar faces in the tournament every year.

I love a good sports Cinderella story. It reminds me that there’s always hope for the underdog. It also reminds me that Jesus was a champion of the underdog. The gospels, especially Luke, tell of how Jesus went out of His way to include and involve the outcast and marginalized of that culture.

The Bible says that God chose the weak and the nobodies to shame the wise and strong (or the ones who think they are wise and strong and have it all together).

People like you and me may not account to much in the eyes of the media and society, but Jesus thought that we were to die for. Literally.

I’m hoping that the Ramblers can keep it going for at least one more round. Maybe they can pull off the ultimate upset and win it all. I know it’s highly unlikely but I’ll be rooting for this underdog until the bitter end.

Some friends and I attended an Eric Johnson concert at the City Winery. It was a first for me on both counts– the artist and the venue. I’ve been to quite a few venues over the years since I moved to Nashville in 2006, but never this one. Until today.

To sum it up with my vast musical and artistic knowledge, it was great.

Eric Johnson is a phenomenal guitar talent who played some of the best face-melty rock I’ve heard in a long, long time.

The only downside was that I stayed up late on a weeknight. I imagine I will be one of the Walking Dead when my alarm clock sounds off at 5 am, but it was way worth it.

I still love music because it’s the only artistic medium to touch all five of the senses. Good music can transport me out of my current circumstances and take me to a place visually and spiritually like almost nothing else can.

There’s still nothing like the right song at the right moment when I’m driving down the interstate headed for home.

I think God did good when He created music.

Now I get to sleep for 4 hours and 40 minutes before I’m up and at it again for another work day. It will not be pretty.