On the Thursday before Easter, crosses appeared in the median of the main street through Sentani.
On Good Friday, a friend and I went to visit an Indonesian friend whose father had passed away. We spoke with our friend, then went in the home to pay our respects to her mom. The body was in a casket in the living room, and visitors were sitting on plastic chairs around the room. There is a striking difference in how Indonesians deal with death versus how we deal with it in the U.S. Here, the wake is held in your living room, it usually lasts several days and there is a constant flow of people. In the U.S. we are so sheltered from death - we prefer to have the funeral homes handle the wakes and funerals and grieve in private.
On the day set aside remember Christ's suffering and death, I stood there listening to my friend's mom talk about her deceased husband, and watched her reach into the casket from time to time. It made me long for Easter morning and the hope it brings, and not just for the present, but for all eternity.
