This year during Holy Week I found myself thinking about Saturday, a day of shock, despair and hopelessness. It was a day when God did not speak and Jesus was silent, sealed away in a tomb, dead. The disciples, mother of Jesus and other women were totally unprepared for the brutal horror that had unfolded before their eyes on Friday. They could hardly fatham the change of events from Sunday when crowds of people had cheered, sang hosanna, waved palm branches and hailed Jesus as a king as he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. They thought the political reign of Jesus freeing them from Rome was finally happening. They missed the fact that kings ride in on horses not a poor man’s donkey.
Then came Thursday night. Jesus was arrested and put on trial. The news reverberated through the city and a large crowd of noisy protesters gathered outside Pilates house. Judas, a part of Jesus inner circle of twelve, betrayed him for thirty pieces of silver and then hung himself, dying a gruesome death.
Friday was a day they could not have imagined in their worst nightmare. Their shock and grief was revolting and numbing. The horror they had witnessed was gruesome. The man they had trusted and followed for three years had been horribly killed with the most cruel form of punishment and disfigured beyond recognition. The groans and cries of pain as the hammer nailed him to the cross was more than they could bear. A violent earthquake shook the ground and the darkness created a supernatural demonic eeriness. Then there was this strange supernatural occurrence where the curtain in the temple separating the holy from the ordinary was ripped from top to bottom. What did going on? What would happen next? Some of the disciples had fled and went into hiding. John huddled at a distance with Jesus mother and the other women. There were no words. Just silence and grief. All his blood spilled out on the ground when a sword pierced his side. They watched him die. They had seen his body, a limp, lifeless, bloody corpse. They had watched as Nicodemus and Joseph wrapped the body in cloth and quickly buried it in a rich man’s tomb without the proper burial spices. They could hardly take in all that was happening in the midst of their overwhelming shock and grief. Jesus was dead. Gone. It was all over.
Friday night there was no sleep. The women sat with Jesus mother and sobbed together. Emotions were raw and feelings were tender.
And then came Saturday. The morning dawned with a heavy, hushed stillness over the city and time stood still. The city was eerily quiet and deserted. Only a few ventured outside as most stayed huddled behind locked doors and talked in hushed whispers. The entire city was in a state of shock and fear. It almost seemed as if the earth was holding its breath.
How does one process what had happened the day before? How had they been so misled? They had witnessed the miracles, listened to Jesus profound teaching. They were convinced he was the Son of God, the Messiah. What should they do now? Where should they go? Were they safe? Why had they not noticed what Judas was up to? Where was God? The words of Jesus that in three days he would rise from the dead never entered their minds. They were sad, hurt, discouraged, exhausted, bewildered, angry, scared and numb. It was the sabbath day and no work was allowed but they began to make plans to give Jesus a decent burial with the required spices on Sunday morning without considering the logistics of doing so.
Nothing, nothing, would prepare them for the events of Sunday morning. They went from worrying how they would roll the rock from the tomb entrance to finding the tomb empty and fearing he had been stolen, to chatting with a frightening angel, and then experiencing the presence of the risen Lord. I can only imagine that their hearts burned within them with fear, hope, relief and confusion.
Saturday, a day of silence, fear, despair and hopelessness, dawned into Sunday, a day of many words, relief, joy and hope.
And then an amazing thing began to happen. They began to remember, to recall the things Jesus had taught them and the words he had spoken. Hour by hour and day by day their eyes and hearts were opened until 50 days later at Pentecost they were staunch believers and fearless men and women who were ready to defend the faith and even risk death to spread the good news.
Jesus did die a horrible death. But, he also rose from the dead. He became alive. He was the Son of God who came to earth in a human body with one purpose…. to become the sacrifical lamb to take away our sin so that we can become right with God and have eternal life.
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only beloved son. That whoever believes in him would not perish, but have everlasting life.”
John 3: 16
“Behold the Lamb” is another blog post that explains the signifiance and meaning of the sacrifical lamb.
The complete story can be read in the Bible: Each reference contains some different perspectives and details.
- Mathew 26-28
- Mark 14-16
- Luke 22-24
- John 18-21
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