In the waiting
On this holy weekend this year, a lot of thought and reflection goes into Good Friday and Easter Sunday- for good reason. Our faith and salvation hinges upon these two days. Without them, "our preaching is useless and so is your faith." But what of Saturday?
Saturday was the first sabbath day in three years these disciples had spent without their rabbi and friend. Saturday was a day of mourning, but also of confusion- "But we had hoped..."s and "What if.."s probably sprinkled the little conversation they had. They faced guilt- running away and letting all this happen. Peter, especially, was ashamed of his denial. They wondered why their Messiah didn't 'call down legions of angels' like he said he could- and they knew his power. They wonder what happened to the Messiah with 'the government on his shoulders'. A dead Messiah couldn't take out Rome. The ridicule he faced all day Friday played over and over in their minds. They're angry, but also afraid- this is what they will face if they're ever found out. And so they hid.
I feel like there are many times that I live in the Saturday. I mean, I celebrate Jesus' death and resurrection at conversion, and every Easter, and every time I reflect on Communion, but the rest of the time I have doubts and fears and unknowns ahead of me. To think, this is the only day in eternity that God the Son was dead, the eternal three-in-one relationship severed. It's the waiting, the in-between time that's the hardest, really. Between the tragedy and the hindsight lessons, between the failure and the "everything working out in the end", between the loss and the found, between the rejection and the new opportunity, I lock myself in my room to hide, like Jesus' friends did. Like the disciples, I trust Jesus' promises intellectually, but I'm still left waiting, in a very scary limbo. Unlike the disciples, I have the Holy Spirit with me all the time for comfort, but that doesn't make my nature less prone to worrying in the waiting.