Saturday

I have thought about Saturday, a lot today. Not just a random Saturday, but the Saturday. The Saturday between Good Friday, and Resurrection Sunday. The day in the middle…which historically goes uncelebrated, unanticipated and unnoticed. It simply slips by. I imagine to the disciples, Mary Magdalene, and the family of Jesus, Saturday didn’t just slip by. You know the feeling, when you first wake up…not sure if the day before actually happened or was a horrible nightmare? Those first seconds before your stomach sinks as you realize the salt on your cheeks is a remnant of the sobs that put you to sleep in the late hours the night before. The Saturday morning…the one where nothing actually makes sense, where all hopes seem irrational and the bright future flickers between strange glimpses of what could be, and the smoldering truth of Friday. You see, on Saturday, people aren’t so convinced that Friday was Good. The promises for Sunday are weakened by the reality of yesterday. It is Saturday that we show our brokenness. Saturday we are completely human…as we recount promises, deal with despair, fight discouragement, and battle bitterness and regret. Anger begins to rise up, as we feel ripped off, lied to, and mocked. We rack our brain to remember words we luxuriously ignored. On Saturday, we only have promises and have to visualize Sunday for which we have no context.
I think Saturday is important. I’ve lived a lot of Saturdays. Whether the salt on my cheeks are from my own failures, or because I live in a fallen world…I have woken up dazed and paralyzed by fear, unable to believe that Sunday is coming. I have lain there attempting to reconstruct what has gone wrong, attempting to remember the promises of tomorrow. Saturday is the day that we must sit in the tension of TRUTH and what seems like truth. What we do on Saturday positions us for Sunday. Will we be close enough to hear the good news to see the risen savior? Or will bitterness, disillusionment, and regret deafen the CALL of FREEDOM from the EMPTY TOMB? While we wait, will we forget the promises, or will we live into them? Will we disappear and shrink back, or stand defiantly at the tomb waiting for the sun to rise on Sunday?