Saturday, April 4, 2015

When Saturday is the Worst Day of the Week

Saturdays can be so hard. Saturday can be the most gut-wrenching day of the week. It was for the friends and loved ones of Jesus. The interminable trial, the false witnesses and attacks that never seem to end. But they did end. They ended with "Guilty!" They ended with an excruciating, humiliating, incomprehensible death. There was the hasty burial, taking his battered body down from the cross. There was their own cowardice and fear, and absolutely no sense of closure. No time to say "I'm sorry." No time to process the sudden swing in circumstances. And now it was Saturday.

Saturday. When you know for sure the thing you most dreaded really, truly happened. Saturday. When you have no evidence for hope. The dream is over. Saturday. When the spectators who felt sorry for you and wept with you, but didn't actually experience the loss you have experienced have gone back to their normal lives, and you are more alone and devastated than you could have ever comprehended. It's THAT Saturday.

They didn't know. They could not see, and surely could not imagine that in the bleakness, under cover of the darkest night, God Himself was working. On Saturday. While demons danced, Satan sneered, and the shards of broken hearts pierced their lungs with every ragged breath, God was working. On Saturday, God was staging the greatest come from behind victory this world, the world above, and the world beneath would ever see! He was doing all that was necessary to resuscitate and resurrect all that was dead and broken.

But on Saturday they didn't know. On Saturday they were on the verge of torching their futures because of what had happened Friday.

Sunday came in the nick of time. The rays of Saturday's afternoon sun were not comforting, only intrusive. As Saturday's daylight slowly faded to dusk, and their swollen eyes craved rest that would not come, their dread intensified. Tomorrow. Who needed it? Another day of pain, despair.  Saturday was only the firstborn of the futile future...stretching out into grey nothingness. Endlessly.

If only they could have known what Sunday would bring! If only they could have seen past Saturday, anticipation would have replaced agony. They would have known that Life and Truth won't stay buried. They would have realized that Jesus was about to restore joy...the unspeakable, undeniable kind.

But it was Saturday. They were in the process of giving up. Is it Saturday for you? Stretch yourself to hold on in the darkness. Take hold of hope. God has a perfect record for doing his most amazing miracles in the night. See past Saturday and believe for Sunday. Joy comes in the morning!

2 comments:

Jean Morris said...

Yes!! What a BEAUTIFUL reminder that our darkest Saturday's hold HOPE for the mot victorious Sundays!
I choose HOPE!
Thank you.

cameragear101 said...

needed this