Six Hours One Friday: Living in the Power of the Cross

( 14 )

Overview

Sometimes it seems life has nothing to send your way but storms. How can you possibly anchor yourself well enough to survive and weather these storms? You may be facing...

  • a failing marriage,
  • an impossible work deadline,
  • a potential layoff,
  • the death of a child,
  • a ...
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Overview

Sometimes it seems life has nothing to send your way but storms. How can you possibly anchor yourself well enough to survive and weather these storms? You may be facing...

  • a failing marriage,
  • an impossible work deadline,
  • a potential layoff,
  • the death of a child,
  • a malignant tumor
  • or something equally challenging.

You don't have to weather these storms alone. God promises to be with you, and He has provided you with three anchor points to help you ride out any storm. Each anchor point was planted firmly in bedrock two thousand years ago by a carpenter who claimed to be the Christ. And it was all done in the course of a single day. All done during six hours one Friday.

Those six hours were no normal six hours. They were the most critical hours in history. For during those six hours on that Friday, God made it possible for you to know that:

  • Your life is not futile.
  • Your failures are not fatal.
  • Your death is not final.

Travel back to the foot of the cross and learn how to live in the power of the cross.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780849947445
  • Publisher: Nelson, Thomas, Inc.
  • Publication date: 1/1/2013
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 240
  • Sales rank: 180,185
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.30 (h) x 0.80 (d)

Meet the Author

Max Lucado
More than 120 million readers have found comfort in the writings ofMax Lucado. He ministers atthe Oak Hills Church in San Antonio, Texas, where he lives with his wife, Denalyn, and a sweet but misbehaving mutt, Andy.
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Read an Excerpt

SIX HOURS ONE FRIDAY


By Max Lucado

Multnomah Publishers, Inc.

Copyright © 1989 Max Lucado
All right reserved.

ISBN: 1576736008


Chapter One

Hurricane Warnings

Labor Day weekend, 1979. Throughout the nation people were enjoying their last waltz with summertime. Weekend reunions, camping trips, picnics.

Except in Miami.

While the rest of the nation played, the Gold Coast of south Florida watched. Hurricane David was whirling through the Caribbean, leaving a trail of flooded islands and homeless people.

Floridians don't have to be told to duck when a hurricane is on the warpath. Windows were taped up, canned goods were bought, flashlights were tested. David was about to pounce.

On the Miami River a group of single guys was trying to figure out the best way to protect their houseboat. Not that it was much of a vessel. It was, at best, a rustic cabin on a leaky barge. But it was home. And if they didn't do something, their home was going to be at the bottom of the river.

None of the fellows had ever lived on a boat before, much less weathered a hurricane. Any sailor worth his salt would have had a good laugh watching those landlubbers.

It was like a McHale's Navy rerun. They bought enough rope to tie up the Queen Mary. They had their boat tied to trees, tied to moorings, tied to herself. When they were through, the little craft looked as if she'd been caught in a spider's web. They were so busytying her to everything, it's a wonder one of the guys didn't get tied up.

How was I privy to such a fiasco? You guessed it. The houseboat was mine.

Don't ask what I was doing with a houseboat. Part adventure and part bargain, I guess. But that Labor Day weekend was more adventure than I'd bargained for. I had owned the boat for three monthly payments, and now I was about to have to sacrifice her to the hurricane! I was desperate. Tie her down! was all I could think.

I was reaching the end of my rope, in more ways than one, when Phil showed up. Now Phil knew boats. He even looked boatwise.

He was born wearing a suntan and dock-siders. He spoke the lingo and knew the knots. He also knew hurricanes. Word on the river had it that he had ridden one out for three days in a ten-foot sailboat. They made him a living legend.

He felt sorry for us, so he came to give some advice ... and it was sailor-sound. "Tie her to land and you'll regret it. Those trees are gonna get eaten by the 'cane. Your only hope is to anchor deep," he said. "Place four anchors in four different locations, leave the rope slack, and pray for the best."

Anchor deep. Good advice. We took it and ... well, before I tell you whether or not we handled the hurricane, let's talk about anchor points.

Chances are someone reading these words is about to get caught in a storm. The weather is brewing and the water is rising and you can see the trees beginning to bend.

You've done everything possible, but your marriage still won't stand. It's just a matter of time.

You bit off more than you could chew. You never should have agreed to take on an assignment like that. There is no way you can meet the deadline. And when that due date comes and you don't produce ...

You've been dreading this meeting all week. They've already laid off several men. Why else would the personnel director need to talk to you? And with a newborn at home.

Perhaps the winds have already reached gale force and you're holding on for your life.

"Why our son?" are the only words you can muster. The funeral is over and the words of comfort have been politely said. Now it is just you, your memories, and your question, "Why me?"

"The tests were positive. The tumor is malignant." Just when you thought the biggest struggle was over. More surgery.

"They took the other bid." That sale was your last hope. To be outbid could mean you'll have to shut down the shop. That client would have been just enough to keep the business afloat for another quarter. But now?

Waves that suck our joy out to sea. Winds that rip out our hopes by their roots. Rising tides that seep under the doors of our lives and cover the floors of our hearts.

I got caught in a hurricane as this chapter was being completed. The warning came in a telephone call during a meeting. The forecaster with the grim news was my wife. "Max, your sister just called. Your mother is going to have quadruple bypass surgery at eight o'clock tomorrow morning." A few quick calls to the airlines. Clothes thrown in a bag. A race to the airport in time to grab the last seat on the last flight.

No time to develop a personal philosophy on pain and suffering. No time to analyze the mystery of death. No time to set anchors. Time only to sit tight and trust the anchor points.

Anchor points. Firm rocks sunk deeply in a solid foundation. Not casual opinions or negotiable hypotheses, but ironclad undeniables that will keep you afloat. How strong are yours? How sturdy is your life when faced with one of these three storms?

Futility. You're riding high and getting higher. You should be content. You should be pleased. You are doing what you set out to do. You have a house. You have a job. You have security. You have two cars in the garage and a CD in the bank. By everyone's estimations you should be pleased.

Then why are you so unhappy? Is it because you know that every tide that rises also falls? Is it because your degree and promotion don't answer the questions that keep you awake at night? "What's it for, anyway?" "Who will know what I did?" "Who cares who I am?" "What is the purpose of it all?"

Failure. You can't hide it anymore. You blew it. You were wrong. You let everyone down. Instead of standing tall, you fell short. Instead of stepping out, you stepped back. The very thing you swore you'd never do is exactly what you did.

Your anchors drag through sand, finding no rocks. Unless a solid point is found soon, the hull of your heart will be splintered.

Finality. The scene repeats itself thousands of times each day in America. Folding chairs on manicured grass. Nicely dressed people under a canvas canopy. Kleenexes. Tears. Words. Metal casket. Flowers. Dirt. Open grave.

It's the wave of finality.

Though it has slapped the beach countless times, you never considered it would hit you, but it did. Uninvited and unexpected, it hit with tidal force, washing away your youth, your innocence, your mate, your friend. And now you're soaked and shivering, wondering if you will be next.

Futility, failure, finality.

You don't have to face these monsters alone. Listen to Phil's advice. It's sailor-sound both in and out of the water: Anchor deep.

Got any hurricanes coming your way?

This book examines three anchor points. Three boulders which can stand against any storm. Three rocks that repel the tallest of waves. Three petrified ledges to which you can hook your anchors. Each anchor point was planted firmly in bedrock two thousand years ago by a carpenter who claimed to be the Christ. And it was all done in the course of a single day. A single Friday. All done during six hours, one Friday.

* * *

To the casual observer there was nothing unusual about these six hours. To the casual observer this Friday was a normal Friday. Six hours of routine. Six hours of the expected.

Six hours. One Friday.

Enough time for

a shepherd to examine his flocks, a housewife to clean and organize her house, a physician to receive a baby from a mother's womb

and cool the fever of one near death. Six hours. From 9:00 A.M. to 3:00 P.M. Six hours. One Friday. Six hours filled with, as are all hours, the mystery of life.

* * *

The bright noonday sun casts a common shadow for the Judean countryside. It's the black silhouette of a shepherd standing near his fat-tailed flock. He stares at the clear sky, searching for clouds. There are none.

He looks back at his sheep. They graze lazily on the rocky hillside. An occasional sycamore provides shade. He sits on the slope and places a blade of grass in his mouth. He looks beyond the flock at the road below.

For the first time in days the traffic is thin. For over a week a river of pilgrims has streamed through this valley, bustling down the road with animals and loaded carts. For days he has watched them from his perch. Though he couldn't hear them, he knew they were speaking a dozen different dialects. And though he didn't talk to them, he knew where they were going and why.

They were going to Jerusalem. And they were going to sacrifice lambs in the temple.

The celebration strikes him as ironic. Streets jammed with people. Marketplaces full of the sounds of the bleating of goats and the selling of birds.

Endless observances.

The people relish the festivities. They awaken early and retire late. They find strange fulfillment in the pageantry.

Not him.

What kind of God would be appeased by the death of an animal?

Oh, the shepherd's doubts are never voiced anywhere except on the hillside. But on this day, they shout.

It isn't the slaughter of the animals that disturbs him. It is the endlessness of it all. How many years has he seen the people come and go? How many caravans? How many sacrifices? How many bloody carcasses?

Memories stalk him. Memories of uncontrolled anger ... uncontrolled desire ... uncontrolled anxiety. So many mistakes. So many stumbles. So much guilt. God seems so far away. Lamb after lamb, Passover after Passover. Yet I still feel the same.

He turns his head and looks again at the sky. Will the blood of yet another lamb really matter?

* * *

The wife sits in her house. It's Friday. She's alone. Her husband, a priest, is at the temple. It's time for lunch, but she has no appetite. Besides, it's hardly worth the trouble to prepare a meal for one. So, she sits and looks out the window.

The narrow street in front of her house is thick with people. Were she younger, she would be out there. Even if she had no reason to go on the streets, she would go. There was a time when she was energized by such activity. Not now. Now her hair is gray. Her face is wrinkled, and she is tired.

For years she has observed the holidays. For years she has watched the people. Many summers have passed, taking with them her youth and leaving only the perplexities that hound her.

As a young woman she was too busy to ponder. She had children to raise. Meals to prepare. Schedules to keep. She brushed away the riddles like she brushed back her hair. But now her home is empty. Those who needed her have others who need them. Now, the questions are relentless. Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going? Why is it all happening?

* * *

The house is alive with excitement. In one room a man paces. In another a woman pushes. Sweat beads glisten on her forehead. Her eyes close, then open. She laughs, then groans. The young doctor encourages her. "Not much more. Don't give up." With a deep breath she leans forward and exerts her last ounce of energy. Then she leans back, pale and spent.

"You have a son." She raises her head just enough to see the red infant cradled in the broad palms of the physician.

Delighted with his task, the doctor cleans the eyes and smiles as he watches them fight to open. The child, freshly welcomed from the womb, is returned to his mother.

The next house he visits is quiet. Outside the bedroom a white-haired wife sits. Inside is the frail frame of her husband, hot with fever. Nothing can be done. The doctor is helpless as the man takes his last breath. It's deep-his bony, bare chest rises. His mouth opens wide, so wide that his lips whiten. Then he dies.

The same hands that cleansed the eyes of the infant now close the eyes of the dead. All during a period of six hours on one Friday.

He fights off the questions. He hasn't time to hear them today. But they are stubborn and demand to be heard.

Why heal the sick only to postpone death?

Why give strength only to see it ebb away?

Why be born and then begin to die?

Who points the crooked finger at death's next victim?

Who is this one that with such regular randomness separates soul from body?

He shrugs and places the sheet over the ashening face.

Six hours, one Friday.

To the casual observer the six hours are mundane. A shepherd with his sheep, a housewife with her thoughts, a doctor with his patients. But to the handful of awestruck witnesses, the most maddening of miracles is occurring.

God is on a cross. The creator of the universe is being executed.

Spit and blood are caked to his cheeks, and his lips are cracked and swollen. Thorns rip his scalp. His lungs scream with pain. His legs knot with cramps. Taut nerves threaten to snap as pain twangs her morbid melody. Yet, death is not ready. And there is no one to save him, for he is sacrificing himself.

It is no normal six hours.... it is no normal Friday.

Far worse than the breaking of his body is the shredding of his heart.

His own countrymen clamored for his death.

His own disciple planted the kiss of betrayal.

His own friends ran for cover.

And now his own father is beginning to turn his back on him, leaving him alone.

A witness could not help but ask: Jesus, do you give no thought to saving yourself? What keeps you there? What holds you to the cross? Nails don't hold gods to trees. What makes you stay?

* * *

The shepherd stands staring at the now blackened sky. Only seconds before he had stared at the sun. Now there is no sun.

The air is cool. The sky is black. No thunder. No lightning. No clouds. The sheep are restless. The feeling is eerie. The shepherd stands alone, wondering and listening.

What is this hellish darkness? What is this mysterious eclipse? What has happened to the light?

There is a scream in the distance. The shepherd turns toward Jerusalem.

A soldier, unaware that his impulse is part of a divine plan, plunges the spear into the side. The blood of the Lamb of God comes forth and cleanses.

The woman has scarcely lit the lamp when her husband rushes in the door. The reflection of the lamp's flame dances wildly in his wide eyes. "The temple curtain ...," he begins breathlessly, "torn! Ripped in two from top to bottom!"

The black angel hovers over the one on the center cross.

No delegation for this death, no demon for this duty. Satan has reserved this task for himself. Gleefully he passes his hand of death over these eyes of life.

But just when the last breath escapes, the war begins.

The pit of the earth rumbles. The young physician nearly loses his balance.

It is an earthquake-a rock-splitting rumble. A stampedelike vibration, as if prison doors have been opened and the captives are thundering to freedom. The doctor fights to keep his balance as he hurries back to the room of the one who has just died.

The body is gone.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from SIX HOURS ONE FRIDAY by Max Lucado Copyright © 1989 by Max Lucado
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgments 9
1. Hurricane Warnings 11
Anchor Point 1 My Life Is Not Futile
2. God's Formula for Fatigue 27
3. Two Tombstones 33
4. Living Proof 45
5. Flaming Torches and Living Promises 51
6. Angelic Messages 59
7. Remember 67
Anchor Point 2 My Failures Are Not Fatal
8. Fatal Errors 79
9. Cristo Redentor 85
10. The Golden Goblet 95
11. Come Home 103
12. The Fish and the Falls A Legend of Grace 115
13. The Eleventh Hour Gift 121
Anchor Point 3 My Death Is Not Final
14. God vs. Death 129
15. Fantasy or Reality? 133
16. The Sparkle from Eternity 137
17. "Lazarus, Come Out!" 151
18. The Celebration 157
19. The Final Glance 163
Study Guide Anchoring Deep
A Message from Max 173
1. Hurricane Warnings 176
2. God's Formula for Fatigue 179
3. Two Tombstones 183
4. Living Proof 186
5. Flaming Torches and Living Promises 189
6. Angelic Messages 192
7. Remember 195
8. Fatal Errors 199
9. Cristo Redentor 202
10. The Golden Goblet 205
11. Come Home 208
12. The Fish and the Falls 212
13. The Eleventh Hour Gift 215
14. God vs. Death 218
15. Fantasy or Reality? 221
16. The Sparkle from Eternity 224
17. "Lazarus, Come Out!" 228
18. The Celebration 231
19. The Final Glance 234
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Sort by: Showing 1 – 17 of 15 Customer Reviews
  • Posted January 23, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    My Review Of Six Hours One Friday: Living in the Power of the Cross By Max Lucado

    Well as always everyone knows, I love Max Lucado, and everything he has written. This book is no different. I really enjoyed this book and it is a revelation. It is amazing to know and read why He died on the cross for me.

    This was such a heartfelt book for me; I could not put it down. One of my favorite chapters was God VS. Death, wow what a relief to know that even if I am dying every day it will be for a very good reason. This book spoke to me, reassuring me that Jesus has something planned for me beyond this life, and I believe this with all of my being.

    Thank you to Thomas Nelson Publishing via Booksneeze for giving me the opportunity to review it.

    9 out of 9 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 18, 2013

    The way Max Lucado portrays the cross and how our father must ha

    The way Max Lucado portrays the cross and how our father must have felt with his son on the cross gave me chills and brought me to tears throughout the book, especially the last page. As a parent, I simply can't imagine. He has a way of relating certain Bible stories to real life situations, allowing the reader to have a glimpse of the 6 hours leading up to the crucifixion. The ultimate story of grace and hope. The way Max Lucado portrays the cross and how our father must have felt with his son on the cross gave me chills and brought me to tears throughout the book, especially the last page. As a parent, I simply can't imagine. He has a way of relating certain Bible stories to real life situations, allowing the reader to have a glimpse of the 6 hours leading up to the crucifixion. The ultimate story of grace and hope. The way Max Lucado portrays the cross and how our father must have felt with his son on the cross gave me chills and brought me to tears throughout the book, especially the last page. As a parent, I simply can't imagine. He has a way of relating certain Bible stories to real life situations, allowing the reader to have a glimpse of the 6 hours leading up to the crucifixion. The ultimate story of grace and hope.
    The way Max Lucado portrays the cross and how our father must have felt with his son on the cross gave me chills and brought me to tears throughout the book, especially the last page. As a parent, I simply can't imagine. He has a way of relating certain Bible stories to real life situations, allowing the reader to have a glimpse of the 6 hours leading up to the crucifixion. The ultimate story of grace and hopeAt the end of the book Max Lucado provides a study guide that invites you to dig further into each chapter, study scripture and quotes from the book, examine your life and encourages community and accountability.

    I thought this book was wonderful and encouraged me to look at my life and make sure that I'm putting my anchors down in the right places. I plan on really digging into the study guide and look forward to learning more.
    Thank you BookSneeze for allowing me to review this book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted January 31, 2013

    more from this reviewer

    In Six Hours One Friday, Max Lucado explores Jesus' death and re

    In Six Hours One Friday, Max Lucado explores Jesus' death and resurrection in a new way. Lucado retells some of the Bible stories we have heard over and over again with a new point of view. Jesus' death from the centurion's point of view, from the thief that hung on the cross next to him, from Mary Magdalene's point of view. Lucado's beautiful storytelling helps to illustrate how much Jesus' death meant and still means to us. Lucado also tells some other Bible stories such as Zaccheus, the adulteress that was almost stoned, and the Samaritan woman at the well. These are all people that were touched by Jesus' life. Lucado makes three key points, stating that Jesus' death and resurrection is our anchor in these three ways. Our lives are not futile. Our failures aren't fatal. Our deaths are not final. We live for Jesus, so our lives are not futile. They are not for nothing. Our failures aren't fatal. God will forgive us. Our deaths are not final. Jesus died for us so death does not have to be the end. This book really brings home why Jesus died for us and what it achieved. Though it is not my favorite Lucado book, it was a good read.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted January 27, 2013

    I love reading books by Max Lucado, and Six Hours One Friday, is

    I love reading books by Max Lucado, and Six Hours One Friday, is no exception! Lucado writes this book in three sections, which he calls Anchor Points. Anchor Point number 1 is titled “My life is not futile”, Anchor Point number 2 is titled “My failures are not fatal” and Anchor Point number three is titled “My death is not final”. Each anchor point gives you an opportunity to evaluate your own life to see how sturdy your faith is when faced with one of the three storms Storm of futility, Storm of Failure, and Storm of Finality. But, Lucado reminds us through God’s word that we do not have to face these monsters or storms alone. There is One who tackled them already. There is One who made a way. There is One who spent six hours on a cross one Friday.

    Lucado writes in the most amazing way to make you feel as though he were writing to you and you alone. He writes so that you listen. He writes so that you understand. And he writes so that you come to know your Maker in a meaningful and personal way.

    I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to read this book. Lucado takes stories from the Bible and illustrates them in his own language. It is truly amazing to read and to simply become immersed in all the good things God has for your life. Thank you Booksneeze for this opportunity to read a book by one of my favorite authors!

    0 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 2, 2012

    An Eye Open Experience!

    This book opens the eyes of thevmmost seasoned Christian and the Lost that are seeking what they are missing!

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 26, 2011

    Luv books

    Max Lucado has done an awesome job with this book. I plan on reading many more of his books.

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted October 24, 2010

    I Also Recommend:

    need time with God in a busy life

    ppick up this book and enjoy. It is short, well written and it will take you closer to view God in a closer view.

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 16, 2004

    An Awesome book

    This book has helped me to re-focus on Jesus in my life. There are things in this book that have been questions in my mind. Very good and gives lots of food for thought.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
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