The Pain of Saturday

Yesterday was Good Friday.

Tomorrow is Easter.

But today?

Today is just Saturday.

Out of all the Gospels, only one mentions that anything happened on Saturday.

Matthew 27:62-66 says that Pilate ordered a guard to guide the tomb.

But other then that?

Silence.

Do we try to imagine Saturday?

Do we imagine waking up as one as the disciples?

Do we consider the empty pain and despair?

Friday was agony and pain and loss.

Saturday was emptiness and anger and hopelessness.

~~~

He just sat there. He leaned on the wall and let it support his weight. He had no strength left. No hope left. No fight left. No caring left. 

Oh, why couldn't he just make it all disappear? Why couldn't he fall back into sleep and let the world fade for a few more hours.

Not that sleep was any better. His dreams filled with the Blood of the Rabbi. His ears filled with the jeering crowds, mocking the man he had followed so faithfully, and the cries of the women who gathered at Jesus's feet.

He slammed his fist against the wall with a cry. Why?!? Why had this happened!

Jesus had said that he was the Son of God, that he was the Messiah... that he was going to be the Savior of the World.

What now?

Doubts and fears plagued him. Lies swarmed around him. Darkness closed in.

It felt like hours had past, but the shadows had stayed still.

Alone he sat until the shadows moved across the floor. Alone he sat until the darkness started to fall. Alone he sat as the shadows disappeared and the stars peered through the window.

Perhaps tomorrow will be better.