Saddest Sabbath Saturday

rainy day in the Garden Tomb area

I find no mention of any of the Twelve disciples between the crucifixion and the resurrection.  On the longest day of their lives, they went home knee deep in grief, dropped into the oblivion of exhausted sleep, and woke to a dawn when it dawned on them afresh that all the horror was not a nightmare but the truth.  He was dead.  And now, what was truth?

The paradigm of their hopes and dreams-the wave of wonder they had ridden into the city days before, to the rhythm of "Hosanna" - had shifted, shattered, and their hearts were pierced by the fragments of their broken dreams.  

If they heard, "It is finished," they didn't grasp the meaning dripping from that marred mouth.  They only knew their own terrible loss.

It was finished.   He was gone.

Life as they had hoped it would be faded to black.

Only one sentence in Luke 23:56 describes that Saturday, "On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment..." and even this verse seems to to be describing the women who were waiting for their chance to live their love for Him one more time by spice and ointment lovingly applied.  

​The silence regarding the other followers, "the Twelve," is deafening. Perhaps it was for them a day even darker than the one before, if that were possible.  As they rested, the reality of Friday's darkness must have settled over them like a shroud. ​

In many "Christian circles," the Saturday of Easter weekend has become a day of reprieve from the gloom of "Good Friday" if we have even paused to consider the depth of that dark day.  When Saturday dawns, with golden sunrise and spring green glory blanketing the warming hills, our minds turn to Sunday, because we know what is next.  We hear the phrase, "It's Friday, but Sunday's coming."

the place of the skull

Jesus first century followers didn't know that, did not live through that Saturday in joyful anticipation of a resurrection celebration.

They sat in utter darkness of spirit; they were sitting in the deep shadow His death had cast across their lives.

I have always thought Friday must have been the worst day of their lives, but now I wonder if Saturday might have been even worse, as the memories crowded in and they saw Him there on the cross, dying, over and over again.

​They knew it was The End, and they trembled, thinking about what was to become of each of them, the men and women marked as The Followers.

They were facing the end of life as they had known it, as they had dared to dream it would be with their King and his Kingdom, but also each one was perhaps looking into the face of his or her own death. Life had become one dark day, followed by a darker one.

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So, the blinding glory of the resurrection of Jesus took them completely by surprise...(off guard?!!)  The preposterous wonder of this truth knocked them into a new paradigm, and they never got over it!!  

I think if we want to live in the audacious reality of Jesus resurrection, -really live in it!- we might need to linger a bit longer in the truth of what life without Jesus looks like.  

​I think Saddest Sabbath Saturday is a holy day worth considering.  

Today, walk a little slower.

Look back to the darkness of Good Friday. 

Dare to inhale the fear and pain and abandonment of that terrible day. 

Pause. 

Even though you know Sunday is coming, give yourself to this day's interlude of grief and loss. 

Be fully present in this saddest Sabbath Saturday. 

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HumminB first posted on Word Wanderings, Saturday of Easter weekend, 3/26/16