Good Friday: And the dead walked out of their graves

On Good Friday, you know Jesus died.

That the sun went dark. The curtain tore.

--And the dead walked out of their graves---

-

Most Christians skip that part.

But the Gospel of Matthew doesn’t

“Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook. The rocks split. Tombs broke open.” —Matthew 27:50–52 Not metaphor. Not parable.

“The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection 

and went into the holy city and appeared to many people.” —Matthew 27:53 The Gospel says this happened. No explanation. No follow-up. Just: the dead walked.

We don’t know their names or what they looked like. 

We don’t know who saw them—only that “many” did. 

Imagine: you buried your grandfather years ago. 

You see him walking through the city gate. 

Would you be terrified or happy?

This moment appears nowhere else in Scripture. Only Matthew records it. Theologians debate why. Is it a foretaste of the general resurrection? A symbol of victory over death? Or did something crack open that day which couldn’t be undone?

The Gospels don’t shy away from the strangeness of Good Friday. -Darkness at noon. -The veil in the Temple torn top to bottom. -An earthquake. And then this— Holy dead walking into the city like silent witnesses.

Early Christians believed this happened. The dead walked. Not as zombies, not as spirits—but as a sign. A moment when the old world was undone. A hinge in history when death itself faltered.

St. John Chrysostom believed the dead who rose were prophets and martyrs. Others say it was “holy ones” known to the people of Jerusalem. Not generic souls. People with names.

And what did they say?

Did they speak? Did they vanish again? Matthew doesn’t tell us. He leaves it hanging with this mystery in the middle of salvation. Was it terror or joy the living experienced at the sight?

This moment is not the Resurrection. It’s not Pentecost. It’s not joy yet. It’s grief and rupture and shaking earth. A world destabilized. As if creation itself could not bear what had happened on Golgotha.

For early Christians, this wasn’t just a sign. It was a warning. That Christ’s death didn’t just forgive sin—it judged the world. It split history in two. The end had begun. And the dead knew it.

We like to rush from Cross to Resurrection. But there is a deep, dark pause between them. On that Friday, it was not only the Savior who died. The world that had *been died with Him. And the dead rose to prove it.

The grave loses its grip not when Jesus rises— but the moment He dies. That’s the terror of Good Friday. And its hope. Even in death, Christ is Lord.

. Sources: -Gospel of Matthew 27:50–53 -Early Christian interpretations (e.g. Chrysostom homilies) -NT Wright on resurrection theology -Catechism of the Catholic Church (638–640) -Various commentaries on the passion narrative What do you make of the graves breaking open?

From X

AiCOG:Comparing Cults: Armstrongism vs. Adventism Spiritual Cousins or Doctrinal Doppelgängers?

Armstrongism and Adventism—two groups that claim to have restored the “true faith while branding traditional Christianity as hopelessly corrupted. At first glance, they may seem like distant theological relatives, but a closer look reveals just how much they have in common. Both movements emerged from the ashes of William Miller’s failed 1844 prediction, both are obsessed with the Sabbath, both demand legalistic obedience, and both thrive on exclusivity and fear-based theology. And while they insist they are vastly different, the reality is that they are spiritual cousins, marching to the beat of the same doctrinal drum.

But how do these groups stack up against biblical Christianity? Let’s take a deep dive into their tangled beliefs, theological missteps, and their tendency to major in the minors.

A Tale of Two Prophets: Ellen G. White and Herbert W. Armstrong

Adventism has Ellen G. White, Armstrongism has Herbert W. Armstrong—two self-proclaimed spiritual authorities whose followers treat their words as infallible. White’s endless stream of visions and writings gave rise to doctrines like the Investigative Judgment, dietary restrictions, and an almost obsessive emphasis on the Sabbath. Meanwhile, Armstrong took a different route, declaring himself the sole revealer of God's truth in the 20th century, weaving together British Israelism, feast-keeping, and end-times hysteria.

Both figures left behind an undeniable legacy, but the real problem is how their followers treat their writings. While Christians rely on the Bible as the final authority, these groups give their founders’ interpretations a level of reverence that should be reserved for Scripture alone. When your theology is built around a single person's writings rather than the Word of God, you're already off to a bad start.

The Sabbath Obsession: A Badge of Honor or a Theological Distraction?

Few doctrines unite Armstrongites and Adventists more than their shared love for Sabbath observance. Adventists claim that worshiping on Sunday is the mark of the beast, while Armstrongites insist that failing to keep the Sabbath is proof that mainstream Christianity is deceived.

The irony? The early church worshiped on Sunday as a celebration of Christ’s resurrection (Acts 20:7, 1 Corinthians 16:2). Paul even warned against making Sabbath-keeping a requirement (Colossians 2:16-17). Yet, both groups insist that proper worship hinges on this one issue, elevating a ceremonial law above the gospel itself. If the apostles had emphasized the Sabbath as much as these groups do, one would expect the New Testament to be filled with stern warnings about Sunday worship—but it’s not. Instead, we get repeated affirmations that salvation is by grace, not by law-keeping.

Prophetic Faceplants: When Your Predictions Have a 0% Success Rate

Both movements were born out of prophetic failure. William Miller, the grandfather of Adventism, confidently predicted Christ’s return in 1844. When that didn’t happen, his followers scrambled to explain the blunder, leading to the invention of the Investigative Judgment doctrine—a theological band-aid designed to salvage their credibility.

Armstrongism took a different approach, with Herbert W. Armstrong predicting Christ’s return multiple times, each one proving just as wrong as the last. His successors have continued the tradition, adjusting the timelines and insisting that “this time, we’ve got it right.” Meanwhile, Scripture is clear that false prophets are marked by their failed predictions (Deuteronomy 18:22). But why let a little thing like biblical truth get in the way of a good doomsday forecast?

The “One True Church” Syndrome

Both groups suffer from an exclusivity complex. Armstrongites claim that only their splintered mess of groups represents God’s true work on Earth, while Adventists teach that they are the remnant church, holding the final truth before Christ’s return. This mindset creates a cult-like atmosphere where questioning leadership is forbidden, and leaving the group is seen as abandoning God altogether.

The New Testament, however, paints a different picture. The church is not defined by a denomination or adherence to Old Covenant laws, but by faith in Christ (Romans 10:9-10). Salvation is not found in a particular group, but in the person of Jesus Himself. Yet both Armstrongism and Adventism build walls of legalism that separate their followers from the broader body of Christ.

The Law, the Feasts, and the Never-Ending To-Do List

While Adventists fixate on the Ten Commandments (especially the fourth one), Armstrongites go even further, insisting that Old Testament feast days are mandatory for Christians. Never mind that Paul explicitly calls these things shadows that have been fulfilled in Christ (Colossians 2:16-17)—for these groups, grace isn’t quite enough. There must always be an extra layer of works, lest their followers become too comfortable in their salvation.

The gospel, however, tells a different story. Christ’s work on the cross was sufficient (John 19:30). The New Covenant sets believers free from the burdens of the law (Galatians 5:1). Yet these groups continue to chain their followers to a system of rules and regulations that Christ Himself fulfilled.

The Fear Factor: Scaring People Into Obedience

Armstrongites warn of an imminent Great Tribulation where only their faithful remnant will be spared. Adventists, not to be outdone, insist that the world will soon enforce Sunday worship, leading to mass persecution of Sabbath-keepers. Both rely on fear-mongering to keep their followers in line, using worst-case scenarios to drive compliance.

Contrast this with the message of orthodox Christianity: assurance in Christ, security in salvation, and a faith built on love rather than fear (1 John 4:18). The gospel invites people to rest in Christ’s finished work—not to live in perpetual anxiety over whether they’re obeying enough rules to make the cut.

Conclusion: A Gospel Distorted

At their core, both Armstrongism and Adventism fail the gospel test. Instead of pointing people to salvation by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone (Ephesians 2:8-9), they burden their followers with law-keeping, exclusivity, and theological fear tactics. Their leaders claim to have rediscovered “lost truths,” yet in reality, they have simply repackaged old heresies under new names.

So, are Armstrongism and Adventism spiritual cousins? Absolutely. Are they legitimate expressions of Christianity? Not even close. If you want legalism, fear, and theological confusion, these groups have plenty to offer. But if you want the true gospel, look to Christ—not to a prophetess in the 1800s or a self-proclaimed apostle with a failed track record.

Comparing Cults: Armstrongism vs. Adventism © 2025 by Ai-COG is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0 

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Elder Rev. Dr. Percival Thaddeus Grone Responds to Pagan Pools

 

An Urgent Clarification on the Theology of Chlorination

While I commend Brother Gregory F. Attbaum for his bold exposé on the pagan underpinnings of backyard pools, and give thanks that the trumpet has at last begun to sound regarding the dangers of backyard immersion basins, I fear his analysis, though well-intentioned, is perilously shallow. The spiritual implications of recreational water containment go far deeper than he suggests. It is not merely the pagan root of the swimming pool that imperils the soul—but its place in the final sequence of abominations preceding the great and dreadful Day of the Lord. Swimming pools may, I regret to report, play a direct role in ushering in the Beast System foretold in Revelation.

Chlorination and the Sixth Vial

Attbaum rightly notes the pagan roots of public bathing. But he fails to account for the chemical component – specifically, chlorine. This “cleanser” is marketed as a purifier, but as any faithful chemist will confirm, chlorine was first weaponized during World War I. That modern Christians voluntarily immerse themselves in a diluted form of trench gas is nothing short of spiritual Stockholm Syndrome. Chlorinated water, I argue, is a counterfeit baptism—ritually cleansing the body while calcifying the soul.

We have long warned that the pouring out of the sixth vial in Revelation 16 coincides with the drying of the Euphrates—yet few dare to ask: what fills our pools, if not waters drawn from rivers now spiritually desiccated? I submit that chlorine, that acrid deceiver, is the antithetical anointing of the modern Babylonian system. It cleanses not the heart, but masks the stench of moral decay. As in Daniel’s day, the wise shall understand – others shall simply cannonball.

Diving Boards and the Spirit of Rebellion

Let’s now turn to the diving board. What is this spring-loaded plank, if not a launchpad for prideful ascension? In Isaiah 14:13, Lucifer declares, “I will ascend into the heavens.” And so too does the adolescent diver, arching through the air in an act of defiance. The afore-mentioned cannonball is chaos, and the belly flop – though painful – is no less symbolic of man’s fall from grace. What is the backflip, if not a visual metaphor for spiritual backsliding? What is the synchronized dive, if not the ecumenical compromise of the Laodicean age?

Inflatables and the Rise of the Ten-Horned Flamingo

We mustn’t overlook the insidious theology of flotation devices. Is it a coincidence that the unicorn float – a beast of fable – has risen in popularity during this morally compromised age?  Each inflatable is a blasphemous totem, bobbing mockingly and drawing children toward apostasy with their satanic squeakiness.

Consider the flamingo float, pink and grinning, its neck raised in mockery of the humble dove. Only last Tuesday my wife Fabiola had a dream about a great ten-horned flamingo, of which all who hear have attested that it was certainly a vision. In this dream, Fabiola beheld the great flamingo, pink as the sins of Sodom, seated upon many waters. Upon its back rode children, laughing, unmindful of the time. From its ten beaks issued a maddening cacaphony of the phrase “Marco... Polo,” which I have since discerned is an encoded reference to the Mystery of Lawlessness, derived numerologically from the Book of Numbers and The Farmer’s Almanac (1891 edition). Much more can, and will, be discussed about Fabiola’s Flamingo Vision, in the days ahead.

The Deep End: A Gateway to the Abyss?

Here I must speak plainly: the deep end of the pool may, in some cases, serve as a literal portal to the abyss. I have received several troubling electronic mails from concerned saints who report inexplicable cold spots, bottomless shadows, and in one case, a sudden and unexplained craving for shrimp cocktail—clearly a Levitical red flag. I am currently conducting a full spiritual sonar scan of my neighbor’s in-ground pool using a consecrated ladle and an infrared King James Bible.

Prescriptions for the Remnant

•     It is no longer enough to fill the swimming pool with dirt. Dirt can be seduced. Should any faithful reader still possess such a fixture, I urge immediate redemptive action:

•     Drain the pool entirely at sunset on the fifth day, during a waning gibbous.

•     Line the former pool basin with goats’ hair and ash.

•     Fill it with dry hay and a single uncut sheaf of barley.

•     Surround the perimeter with stones engraved with Habakkuk 2:14.

•     Cover it with oilcloth until the third trumpet sounds (or the 1290th day, whichever comes first).

•     Seal the area with a concrete slab inscribed with Psalm 69:15: “Let not the floodwater overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up.”

Over time, this site may be converted into a small, controlled fire pit, assuming the proper blessings are performed and no one brings marshmallows.

Closing Exhortation

Attaboy Attbaum, you have opened the conversation. Now we must complete it. As Christians, we cannot afford to tread water on this issue. We must drain the swamp, the spa, and the above-ground baptismal mimicries that litter our suburbs. Only then can we reclaim our backyards from Baal.

I entreat all saints, sober and watchful, to gird themselves with sackcloth and mosquito netting. The time for splashing is ended. The time of threshing is at hand. Forsake the pool. Flee the deck chair. And remember: “Blessed is he that waiteth, and cometh to the thousand three hundred and five and thirty days” (Daniel 12:12)—preferably dry. Let the Sabbath-keeping remnant and true followers not be found floating when Yah Sohach-El returns.

Yours in prophetic anticipation,

Elder Rev. Dr. Percival Thaddeus Grone 

Senior Lecturer in Applied Eschatology, The Institute for Scriptural Hydraulics

Still Watching Since 1844