Remembering the story of Easter after four days off-grid in the wilderness

I returned last Sunday from the ‘Leopard Trail’ a four day hike in Baviaanskloof, a vast, rugged wilderness area in South Africa’s Eastern Cape, (we sadly didn’t see any leopards). There is something about stepping off-grid, with no signal or wifi, that rearranges your sense of time. After four days hiking through the beauty of the Baviaans, where the rhythm of life is set by footsteps and sunlight, we returned home last Sunday dusty, tired, but refreshed. That same afternoon, we collected my husband’s mother, who had been staying with friends. As we loaded her bag into the car, her friend called out, “You’re missing Palm Sunday at church!”

I realised I had completely lost track of where we were in the Easter calendar. I was reminded that while I had been walking through wilderness, the Church had been walking through a different kind of journey.

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Palm Sunday marks the beginning of Holy Week, the final stretch leading to Easter

Palm Sunday marks the beginning of Holy Week, the final stretch leading to Easter. It commemorates Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, fulfilling prophecy (see also Zechariah 9:9). He was welcomed by crowds waving palm branches, a moment of celebration and expectation. It is a day that holds both joy and tension, because we know what lies ahead. Matthew 21:1–11 and John 12:12–19

As the week unfolds, each day carries its own meaning. Maundy Thursday, as described in Luke 22:14–20 and John 13:1–17 remembers Jesus sharing the bread and wine, instituting Communion, and washing His disciples’ feet. He gives a new command: to love one another (John 13:34). The word “Maundy” comes from the Latin mandatum, meaning “command.” I had always thought it was connected to mourning in someway, but it is pointing to Jesus’ instruction to love one another.

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Then comes Good Friday, a name that can feel almost jarring. The Bible speaks of it in Isaiah 53:3–7 (prophecy), John 19:16–30 and Luke 23:44–49. Jesus is crucified and dies. Isaiah 53, written centuries earlier, describes this suffering in remarkable detail. This is the moment Jesus bears the sin of the world. What is “good” about a day marked by suffering and crucifixion? The goodness lies in what was accomplished through it: the ultimate act of sacrificial love, the bearing of sin, the opening of the way to reconciliation with God.

Holy Saturday follows, often overlooked, described in Matthew 27:57–66. Jesus is buried, and the tomb is sealed. It is a day of stillness, a pause between death and resurrection. It is a day of waiting, of silence, of not yet knowing how the story will resolve. Perhaps it is the day we understand least, and yet the one we live in most often, that in-between space where faith holds on in the absence of clear answers.

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And then, finally, Easter Sunday, Resurrection Day (Matthew 28:1–10 and John 20:1–18). The tomb is empty. Jesus rises from the dead, appearing first to Mary Magdalene. This is the cornerstone of the Christian faith - that death is not the end. A day of joy, of victory, of life breaking through death. 

As I think back to our days in the Baviaanskloof, walking through rugged terrain, I am struck by how fitting it feels alongside this season. Lent, which precedes Holy Week, is itself a kind of wilderness, a time of reflection, surrender, and preparation. Perhaps missing Palm Sunday in the traditional sense was not a failure after all, but an invitation to re-enter the story with fresh eyes, to notice where I am in it, and to walk the road to Easter with intention. Because whether we are in a church pew, a mountain valley, or a car park conversation, the invitation remains the same: to remember, to reflect, and to respond to the greatest story ever told.