As I reflect on Easter, my thoughts wander to what this weekend was like for Jesus' friends and family. They do not know that they are in the darkest hour of the universe's history. They do not know (as we now know) that death is about to be defeated. For now, for them, nothing is right.
They are living with the raw pain of grief. It was only yesterday that the Lord had died. Life has suddenly stopped. They cannot eat; they cannot sleep. They feel as if their hearts are breaking in two. At times it is hard to breathe. How can these things be? Exhaustion fills their souls.
Just as the pain seizes their hearts, questions flood their minds. Why did He have to die? Pilate said he could not find any guilt in Him. And then why did He have to die as a common criminal? And upon a cross? He did no wrong. Yet the crowd was so insistent: crucify Him, crucify Him. And now He is dead. He was the Messiah. But He lies dead.
It is hard to do anything. Nothing seems to matter anymore. The Master and Lord is gone. What now? Their days have been filled with following the Lord. What do they do now? Where do they go? And then another wave of grief sweeps over them. This day feels just as dark as those three hours of darkness when the Lord hung on the cross.
It is hard to leave the story here. I want to rush on to Easter morning. Yet for them, their Saturday was filled with the pain of the Lord's death.
Amazingly their pain was shared by another, by one who understood the depths of their heartache: their Heavenly Father. The Father had to turn His face away from His beloved Son - for He bore my sin as He hung upon the cross.