finally understood how Jesus’ disciples must have felt on that dark, despairing Saturday between the cross and the empty tomb. Even in my own dark time, I did not doubt the depth of Jesus’ love in His willingness to die for me on the cross. And, even in my dark time, I did not doubt Jesus’ resurrection. But here was my struggle: I couldn’t see the relevance or the power of Jesus’ resurrection in Somalia. I couldn’t point to any evidence of good overcoming evil. I couldn’t see where love was overcoming hate.
