That Confusing Saturday

I can’t imagine how depressed those disciples must have felt when they awoke to the reality of Saturday morning. The day after having lived the most horrific day in history. Good Friday is what we call it, but from their perspective is was anything but good. For three years they had followed Him. Three Years of transformation, expectation, reformation. Three years of physically being with Jesus every day. Waking up every day to a new adventure. Who would he heal today? What would He say? Where would He take us? Wonderful questions to wake up to. Everyday filled with anticipation.

I can’t imagine the confusion of Saturday, with the glaring reality of His crucifixion still throbbing in their memories. The way a fresh cut throbs, and we wince every time we accidentally bump it. That stab of pain shooting through us, reminding us that we are wounded. Heads pounding from dehydration as they cried out all their tears ‘til none were left to cry. Eyes swollen from the constant stream of salty …