Gone: Holy Saturday

Saturday.

Remember that time when you felt the world end? Remember your heart cracking and shattering and feeling you might not be able to get up in the morning? Remember your own, personal season of betrayal and heartache and loss? Remember the long, long day when you wanted just to not see anyone, to not hear from those who thought they won how glorious their victory?

Remember such a day as that?

Jerusalem

On that Saturday after the Crucifixion, how must the followers of Jesus have felt?

He was gone. No more a Savior to deliver Israel from Rome to oust the hated invaders from their holy homeland. . . . no more a Healer when illness struck and they had no where else to go. . . no more a Provider of meals for thousands from crumbs and food pittances. . . no more their Friend who laughed at a wedding, who called to Himself small children for their protection, “do not hinder (the children) from coming to Me; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these;” no more the Son who loved the mother who raised Him, who truly knew His birth story, no more crowds calling out praises, no more quiet times on the beach or the water fishing, no more. . . no more. . . no more.

Gone.

He had told them; told them that one of them would betray him, and what they thought was, “Not me! Not me!” then missed his naming of the traitor, “What you do, do quickly;” oh, how must Jesus’ own heart have splintered as Judas rose and left the room, though more, surely, as His friend betrayed Him in the garden with the kiss of friendship, a lie and a regret; He gently chided them as they asked to reign beside Him, never aware at the cost of their request; He prayed for them as He left them, “I ask on their behalf;” He warned Peter, that big fisherman, of that very own disciple’s betrayal to come, “A rooster will not crow before you deny me three times;” they heard Him beg His Father for another way, “if it is possible, let this cup pass. . . if it is possible.”

All of that after three years of ups and downs, miracles and magnificent scenes, the crowd’s “Hallelujahs!!” changed to a mob’s “Crucify Him!”

Gone.

Not just the Redeemer. Not just the Leader. Not just the Teacher. . . . .

their Friend.

How exhausted they must have been after the start of Thursday night with a large Passover meal, then Friday morning, a surprise arrest, multiple illegal trials, fear for their own safety, their own betrayals and backstabbings, and, finally, His death.

He had told them to wait; He had told them His death was not the end; He had told them.

As we so often do, they heard their desires and not His Truths.

But, who could believe such as that? Rome—all-powerful, all-cruel Rome—had taken their Hope and killed it, literally, figuratively, in all the ways Hope can die.

Jerusalem Rooftop

And they hunkered down in Jerusalem, unable to leave town on the Sabbath, unable to understand the enormity of their loss, unable to think past the day, and remembered Jesus,

now gone.