It’s the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, and today my thoughts have turned toward what this day must have been like for the disciples and other Christ followers. On Friday, as brutal as it was, there must have been glimpses of hope — surely it cannot end this way; there is still time for Jesus to save himself. But by Saturday there would be no denying the outcome. Jesus was dead and this is not at all the way we thought it would happen. We prayed for a different outcome. JESUS prayed for a different outcome!
But Jesus was supposed to be our king. What happened? What will become of us? Why? Why? Why? I just don’t understand.
And I think of the times I have lived in a “Saturday” like that. The prayers, however weary, of Friday have turned to the despair of Saturday. And there I wail and I weep and I “Why”.
But Oh, the beauty of Sunday!! So much MORE than they ever dreamed to pray. God’s plan revealed with the most glorious triumph of all time. He is NOT dead. The ultimate weeping turned to dancing on that Easter Sunday.
So today, this is what I know. The same God that raised Jesus from the dead … the God of every “Sunday” in my life, is still God on Friday and Saturday. He accepts my tears and my fears and then reminds me Sunday is coming. There IS a sunrise and a celebration already marked on his calendar. That’s one of the lessons I am taking from this Easter … Saturday, no matter how long or painful, always gives birth to Sunday. He’s been doing it that way forever.
Happy Easter, my friends.