Silent Saturday

Imagine with me.

Your best friend, your knight in shining armour, your housemate, your travel partner, your teacher, your hero. Gone. Dead.

And not just dead, but cruelly killed be men who wanted nothing more than to bring as much pain to Him as possible.

Dead. Buried. By someone other than yourself. By someone who took the time to make sure that things were done properly.

Buried and sealed. In a spot where you can't get to. Even if you wanted to, you can't get to.

Gone. Forever.

Your time together had held so much promise. So much hope for the future. Such great things had been done. So many things said. So much accomplished.

But now He was gone. Gone. Forever.

The feelings of yours.

Despair.

Sorrow.

Hurt.

Pain.

Hopelessness.

Wondering.

But now, with Him gone, all of those hopes that you had are gone. Unfulfilled. Depsite promises made, promises seemed to be broken.

And so you wait.

What will happen next? What will your life be like now that He is gone? You can hardly imagine it. What will people say? You had hailed Him as such a hero, such a saviour and now he is gone. And the promises that He brought aren't fulfilled.

And so you wait. And wonder. And hope.

You hold onto that hope with everthing that you have. Hoping for something more. Hoping for more time. Hoping for one more word. One more encouragement. You hope.



And that is silent Saturday.

In the last few days a number of times, on a blog, on the radio, at church, I was challenged to remember silent Saturday. The disciples had lived, walked, talked, ate with Jesus and now He was gone. All they had left to do was hope.

The Bible doesn't tell us how they spent that Saturday. It doesn't tell us how anyone spent that Saturday. But you can imagine the pain and the grief and the hope. Oh, the hope.

I feel sometimes, like we are living in that Saturday. The time between the promise and the fulfillement. And all we have is that hope.

We've been promised a new life and yet we have the old life still in us.
We've been promised heaven and yet we are still living on earth.
We've been promised blessing and yet we have pain and hardship.

And so we live in that hope. Hoping that someday, when His timing is perfect, He will fulfill.

We know the rest of the story. We know that the fulfillment for those disciples came on the very next day. They could go from the deepest pain imaginable to joy. Overflowing joy. In one day.

And that's the hope that we have to live for. The hope that the joy, the overflowing joy, that He promised, will be ours. Someday. His day. It will be ours!

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. - John 14:3