Everyone who can do clock math reads the creed clause “The third day he rose from the dead” and thinks, “it’s only thirty-six hours from Friday night to Sunday morning” Why do we always talk about the three days? Why did Jesus say “that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life”? Didn’t he know how to do math? I mean, why do we recite a creed that makes it look like we don’t know how to use a clock and a calendar.

I understand the concern. I really do. It is only thirty-six hours. That’s not three of our days. That’s like my dad saying, “the morning’s almost gone” at 9:30 on Saturday morning. The morning’s not almost gone. In fact, it shouldn’t have started as early as it did.

Stop for a minute and think about the whole phrase. He. Rose. From. The. Dead. Three days, three hours. who cares? I mean he was dead and buried and now he’s alive. That’s huge, right? Bigger than vampires. Bigger than Frankenstein. Bigger than cryogenics. Bigger than marketing for Black Friday.

In fact I love the matter-of-fact nature of the creed at this point. There is no attempt to impress, to preach, to prove. There is no Passion Play designed to evoke emotion. After being buried on parts of three calendar squares, Jesus, who has been described very carefully before this in the creed, rises from the dead. Once dead, now alive. Dude.

And this isn’t the end of the story, the end of the creed, the end of amazing. In fact, it’s just the middle. The story keeps going.

Whole books are written around these couple lines of death and resurrection. Arguments, careers, reputations. But this simple declaration is at the heart of them all.