It’s Saturday on the calendar today, and it’s the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter. It is a day that there is very little written of in Scripture. The only thing in the Gospels about Saturday is the request of the chief priests and Pharisees to put a guard at the tomb, Luke references that the women who had accompanied Him rested as was the commandment, and we do not see any information on the Eleven. We see the Crucifixion end with Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus taking the body and laying Him with about 100 Roman pounds of myrrh and aloe.
So they buried Jesus. Mary, Mary, Joanna, and the other women see where the body is laid and go prepare spices and perfumes as will be necessary. I wonder if there was perhaps a plan to move the body to a permanent location, given that He’s been laid in a borrowed tomb and in a hurry. Saturday, though, ends up a day of despair. In the back of the minds of the disciples there is perhaps an echo of the promise: “Destroy this temple and I will raise it up in three days” but that echo is faint.
It’s actually stronger in the minds of the chief priests and Pharisees. That’s why they want the guard: they remember the promise while the disciples might not! We try to imagine how dark and sad that day must have been.
The truth is, though, we can’t. We know what happens. We know how this story ends: He comes back on a white horse with a sharp sword and name on his robe and thigh: “King of Kings and Lord of Lords.”
We don’t have any more Saturdays like the disciples had in those days. No matter how hard we try, we cannot fully imagine that desperation. Our desperation as followers of Christ does not come from not knowing. It comes from forgetting. Forgetting about Sunday.
It’s not difficult to see why we forget. There are so many pulls on our mental efforts today, issues that we have to remember whether we like it or not. Even making coffee is a complex process involving measurements and specifications, not to mention other challenges. My life is so digitally connected that I have to remember a dozen passwords just to get through the day. Then there’s things like my wife’s anniversary, my kids’ names, and all of the craziness that happens in Baptist World.
Yet we make time to remember what is most important. In our darkest times, we have to come back and remember this: there are no more Saturdays. No more days that we cannot know the power and love and grace of God. We forget in the darkness that the light is on and cannot stop shining.
So go today and remember this: it’s not Saturday and it never will be Saturday again. It’s always Sunday, for He is risen.