“I hate Saturdays!” I don’t often hear people voicing this sentiment. Oh sure, you may be employed somewhere, such as a bank, where Saturday becomes a day of increased work trying to satisfy a hurried and impatient clientele. But for the most part, folks who are immersed in the typical Monday through Friday, 8 to 5 type of job usually find Saturday, especially the morning hours, to be an oasis in a week of seeming insanity. Certainly Sunday is the recognized Sabbath in our Christian culture, but ask any young mother, trying to get three children ready for church, how restful she finds those hours of preparation. For many, if not most, Saturday is a day when you are often allowed the luxury of setting your own agenda.
“I hate to wait!” Now there is a phrase most everyone can relate to; either on the giving or receiving end. You would need to be a hermit living in a cave in Tibet in order to have missed the fact that this world is racing faster every day, many believe toward its’ own destruction. Frequently, in speaking with people on the telephone, I can hear the sound of their computer keyboard clicking away. It’s easy to tell from their responses to my questions that they are “multi-tasking”. These driven folks are devoting a portion of their attention to our conversation and the other to the spreadsheet or email that is displayed on their monitor. Relationships in the world today are suffering greatly because of our need to always be moving faster and accomplishing more while doing so.
On Easter Sunday I was once again meditating on the events of two-thousand years ago. Good Friday represents a day of great trauma, beyond what our physical human minds are capable of comprehending. At some point in eternity we may be given a deeper understanding of what really happened on the Cross of Calvary. But for now we cling to the belief that by Christ’s selfless act of sacrifice we are somehow saved from eternal destruction. The atrocity of Golgotha is quickly swallowed up by the joy of the Resurrection, which we celebrate on Easter Sunday morning. Recalling the empty tomb, we are swept into a state of euphoria, basking in the release from the grip of death that Jesus secured and passed on to us as our inheritance.
But nestled between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday was Saturday.
I reflect on the women of the Scriptures who played such a prominent role during the first Easter. These devoted individuals had endured the unimaginable pain of watching their Master put to death in a most hideous manner; beaten nearly senseless, humiliated beyond belief, nailed to a wooden beam, and left to slowly suffocate. I can only imagine the thoughts that raced through their minds; the promises which Christ had given them that now seemed impossible to fulfill; the time and expense which they dedicated to a growing movement which now seemed doomed; the dependency that had developed for the words which Jesus spoke, which now were seemingly silenced. As their Lord gasped His final breaths and then ceased to physically live, so they may have felt their hopes and dreams die on that very cross. The Sacrifice of Christ was complete. So was theirs. And in the midst of their anguish… Saturday arrived.
The women, who had exposed themselves to ridicule by their own people, possible attack on their lives by the Roman force that was present and, most notably, acts of vengeance by their religious leaders for their support of the One who had just been crucified, found themselves facing a constraint they could not overcome; the law of the Sabbath. They believed that the very law, which Christ had said He came to fulfill, prohibited them from even attending to the lifeless body of their Master on the Sabbath. There is nothing in the Bible accounts to indicate that these loyal followers sat through the period of “waiting” with hopes of a resurrection in their hearts. They awaited the release of Sunday morning, but to them it only meant that they could resume their grieving over the lifeless remains of the One they loved so much.
Perhaps, like Rita and me, you find yourself facing a “Saturday” in your life. You have followed a dream which seems to be from God, walked up a twisted path that brought you to a moment of total sacrifice, and now find yourself constrained, by circumstances which seem insurmountable, to wait for something in which you find your hope dissipating. We all need to take comfort, and even rejoice, in the assuredness of a Resurrection Morning! Take note however; that moment always arrives, as it did for those loyal followers at the empty tomb, in a way that we cannot even imagine. Those women expected to continue mourning over a decaying body wrapped in a death shroud. Instead they were met with a resurrection of their Dream, in a manner that defied their understanding.
There is always a Sacrificial Friday. And the pain of perseverance through a long Saturday is always met with the joy of a Resurrection Sunday! But remember, that day will always arrive in a manner that is bigger, and better, than your current understanding! Rita and I stand with you all in faith, awaiting that Most Blessed Day!
