And then there was Saturday.

Jesus. His passion. His crucifixion. His death, his burial, his resurrection. 
All of history has been building up to this. 
The crescendo of time itself. 
The hour was unknown, but now it has come. 
It is here. And soon, it will be finished. Once and for all. 
 
A walk in the garden. 
One last meal. 
Friends and fellowship sit at the table with betrayal. 
All the anticipation. How do they not see it? How do they not know what is coming? 
 
Father, come. Come and take this cup from me. 
Yet not my will, but yours be done. 
Your will be done. Just come. 
Come quickly. 
 
Hours of prayer. The restless night. 
And with a kiss, it begins. 
And it all happens so fast. 
 
The betrayal and the arrest and the trial and the condemnation. 
The mocking and the torture and the crown. 
The cross and the fall and the nails. 
The pain and the cries and the shouts. 
The wine and the staff and one last breath and then, 
 
It is finished. 
 
Just like that. 
 
The light goes out. 
 
The darkness wins. 

The heart is ripped out. 
 
The hope is despair. 
 
The weeping begins and it doesn’t seem to stop. 
 
The silence and the utter emptiness. 
 
And nothing will ever be the same again. 
No, more than that. It seems like nothing will ever happen again. 
 
The heart. Oh, the heart. The heart is not just empty. It’s not just broken. 
It is torn out. All that is left is an empty void. 
 
And then there was Saturday. 
 
No one really talks about Saturday. 
But what is there to say? 
Time stood still. 
Life was empty. 
All hope had completely disappeared. 
Not even a song to be sung. Not a note to be played. Just emptiness. Silence. 
 
As his body was brought down from the cross, they stood there in utter disbelief. 
They held each other as his limp corpse was bound and bandaged and sealed away. 
They sat together as Saturday dawned. 
As the red sun hung over their heads. 
No one spoke a word. No one had anything to say. 
 
Some cried, and some tried to but were unsuccessful
As they tried to feel something, anything
But realized that their very capacity to feel had gone out with their heart. 
 
Where did he go? 
What did he do? 
Is this what a life without God would be like? 
How long would this go on? 
 
It seemed like an eternity without him. 
 
And then, the sun arose. For the first time, light broke through the clouds. 
There was a sense of hope and contentment that came with the light. 
It was as if something had awakened within them. 
Like they were able to walk on for the first time. 

Finally, the silence was broken. 
At last, he returned. 
And when he spoke, hope returned. 
A promise fulfilled. 
An eternity restored. 
 
And joy. Oh, the wondrous joy. 
The joy of salvation. 
The joy of the resurrection. 
The joy of the Lord himself, back from the dead. 
The joy of a kingdom now and not yet. 
It was finished but it has only just begun. 
 
And so we feel the weight of Saturday. 
We sit in that pain and emptiness. 
We weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn. 
And on Sunday, we rejoice. 
We rejoice that death could not defeat him. 
We rejoice that our Savior is back. 
God has not forsaken us. 
He is here, he is real, and his presence shakes the whole earth. 
 
Lord, thank you for your scars. 
Thank you for your sacrifice. 
And thank you for Saturday.