Faithful Paradox

Easter weekend has always been one of contemplation for me; and much more so over the last 2 years as we continue to grieve the death of our eldest son, Ezra. I used to dwell a lot on Friday and Christ's crucifixion; the incredible sacrifice he made for sinners such as me. I used to think often about Sunday and the glory of the resurrection. Now, I find Saturday is much more dear to me.

I find myself wondering what Saturday was like for the disciples of Jesus. I wonder what it was like for them as they thought about the shock and terror of watching Jesus die. I wonder, did they gather together on Saturday or did they grieve in isolation? Did they sit in numbness? Did they have hope? 

Jesus told his disciples exactly what was going to happen to him. In Mark 9:31-32 he tells his followers clearly, “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men. They will kill him, and after three days he will rise.” Yet, when Jesus was crucified, the disciples stood in shock as they watched their beloved leader killed. They all deserted him and hid in fear. Thursday night into Friday was full of trauma, disbelief, as the one whom they loved and followed was tortured, wrongly convicted and crucified. Despite the fact that Jesus told his followers he would rise, they did not yet understand. 

The disciples did not seem to respond as ones who had hopeful anticipation of what was to come, but rather as those stuck in shock at the atrocities they experienced. Scripture tells us again and again that they did not understand; they did not yet believe (Luke 8:34, John 20:9, John 12:16). It was not that they thought Jesus was lying. It was simply that they did not yet have a category for understanding; maybe for belief. 

I imagine the idea of Jesus rising from the dead must have seemed inconceivable to them. I imagine hope in resurrection may have felt foolish; maybe they had misunderstood. Maybe they thought that when Jesus told them about it, he was just speaking in parables again; he did that a lot. 

I wonder if some of their struggle was simply that the words of Jesus were so foreign to them that this promise from Christ left them with little comfort? The one they loved was murdered. While he had promised hope and resurrection, the reality is, they were left with the numbing trauma of their current pain. Resurrection had not yet come. Understanding had not yet blossomed. They had no category for understanding the glory that was to come. 

Did the promise of resurrection even bring hope and comfort to his followers or was it such a foreign concept that they were not able to comprehend the joy that would be theirs in just a day's time? Did they visit the tomb on Sunday because it was the custom? Were they simply going through the motions of ritual or was there more to their actions? Mark 16 tells us that a group, "brought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body." Did they go because it was the next thing they needed to do or was there a tiny piece of their hearts that hoped in the words Jesus had spoken to them? He told his followers what was going to happen to him. It seems in many ways they carried on as if they did not know for sure he would rise. They had been given a truth that was hard to believe. In some ways, it seems as if it brought little comfort. In many ways, I think grief has felt the same.

Knowing that our beloved Ezra who lost his battle with cancer loved Jesus and is with him brings great hope and peace. I know one day, we will be reunited. Yet as I wait, at times, the promises do not always bring comfort. In part, I think it must be that I have no tangible understanding of bodily resurrection... yet. 

I know what the Lord has promised, but the present reality of pain today sometimes makes it hard to find comfort in the yet-to-come. I understand, with the disciples, the incredible pain and loss of Friday. I understand the silence of Saturday; the time in between the loss and glory. I understand, with the disciples, the promises of Jesus. 

I imagine that those of us who live with the loss of precious loved ones, those who live with daily grief, those who suffer much in their daily lives, whether physically or emotionally, understand acutely what the disciples of Jesus must have felt on that Saturday. There is an understanding that Jesus had indeed spoken words of hope; promises that are true. The silence of living through Saturday, however, can make it hard to feel the effects of those promises.

It's living with a hopeful wonder of anticipation, married with grief-stricken pain of the reality of now. It's knowing that Jesus does not lie and he has promised that there will be a resurrection. Yet, it also feels so inconceivable that it can be hard to find comfort today. 

We are all weary travelers who long to feel hope, yet we also bear the weight of the present reality of loss and suffering. There are times that grief can feel like a lifetime of Saturdays. It's living, knowing that it is finished and yet it's not quite here. The victory is won but the battle ensues. It's fighting to remember what Jesus said, yet living under the confines of a sin wrecked world. It's knowing that there is a one day, future hope and comfort, yet there is also a right now, present day ache that never leaves. 

I'm thankful there is Sunday; the day of resurrection yet to come. There is hope in that. The silence and confusion of Saturday can sometimes make it hard to anticipate Sunday. It's hard to understand something we've been told but cannot yet fully comprehend. Much like the disciples had been told that Jesus would rise in 3 days, we are told that one day, all this pain will be made right. We too will rise with him and every tear will be wiped away, every sorrow will be made right. We are even told in Isaiah 65:17 that one day, "the former things will not be remembered or come to mind." We will be with Christ and the pains we have endured will not even come to mind any longer. What a glorious day that will be! All because on Sunday, Jesus rose and conquered sin and death once and for all.

As we wait for the glory of Sunday, we live through Saturday. I'm grateful that God gave us the pictures of the disciples who endured the pain of Saturday. I'm grateful that it did not end on Saturday, but they got to experience the joy of promises fulfilled on Sunday. Words had been spoken that were hard to comprehend but faith was made sight as the disciples saw and experienced the risen Savior. I know it will be the same for those of us in Christ. One day, Sunday will come and what joy there will be on that day when all faith will be made sight.

At times, when sorrow, loss and grief come, we live in, what feels like, a lifetime of Saturdays. It's the day between loss and glory. It's the day between confusion and resurrection. It's the day where silence is louder than we would hope, pain settles in and sorrow holds us. Yet we have a sure and steadfast promise for our souls, and as we wait, we anticipate what is to come. Like the disciples, I'm not sure I really understand the glory that will accompany it, but I know Jesus has promised it, just as he told his disciples what would come. Because he has said it, it will come to pass and what a day of rejoicing that will be.