Faithful Paradox

Easter weekend has always been one of contemplation for me; and much more so over the last three years as we continue to navigate what life is like after the death of our eldest son, Ezra. I often think about Friday and Christ’s crucifixion; the incredible sacrifice he made for sinners like me. I love to celebrate on Sunday; the glory and hope of the resurrection. In recent years, however, I find Saturday is much more dear to me.

I am curious about what the silence of Saturday must have been like for the disciples as they wrestled with the shock and horror of Jesus’ death. Did they gather together to comfort one another or did they grieve in isolation? Did they sit in numbness? Did they even have hope? 

Jesus told his disciples exactly what was going to happen to him. “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men. They will kill him.” (Mark 9:31). Yet when Jesus was arrested, the disciples scattered in terror as their beloved leader was tried and killed. Thursday night into Friday had to be full of trauma and disbelief as the one whom they loved and followed was arrested, wrongly convicted, tortured, and crucified. Despite the fact that Jesus told his followers what would happen, they did not yet fully comprehend. I don’t imagine they thought Jesus was lying. It had to be that they did not yet have a category for understanding; for belief. 

Jesus also told his disciples, “after three days [the Son of Man] will rise” (Mark 9:31). He told them that death would not hold him; he would be resurrected. Despite having seen their friend Lazarus resurrected from the dead, I imagine this idea still seemed somewhat inconceivable to them. Despite what Jesus told them, did hope in resurrection feel foolish? Maybe they had misunderstood. Could it be that when Jesus told them about his own resurrection he was just speaking in parables again?

They had been given a truth that was hard to comprehend. In many ways, even if Jesus’ words brought hope, I wonder if they felt comfort on Saturday? Did the promise of resurrection alleviate their sorrow? Or did the grief that came on Friday dull to comfort of what was to come?

As I think about my own sorrows, great hope and peace come when I rest in knowing that because he loved Jesus, my precious son is with Christ. I know one day we will be reunited. I know that because of Jesus, this life is not the end. He has promised eternal life and in that there is incredible hope.

Yet as I wait, even though Christ’s promises bring hope and peace, they do not always bring the comfort I expected. In part, I can’t help but wonder if it is similar to what the disciples may have felt on Saturday. Like the disciples, I know what has been promised by Jesus, but do not yet have a category for fully comprehending. While I believe the words that Jesus has spoken and faith has been given, “for now, [I] see in a mirror dimly” (1 Cor. 13:12).

I believe what God’s word has promised. The present reality of pain, however, can make it difficult to feel fully comforted in the yet-to-come. The mirror is dim. I understand, with the disciples, the incredible pain and loss of Friday. I understand the silence of Saturday; the day between loss and glory. I believe the promises of Jesus, but the glory of Sunday? It is the day when my faith will truly become sight and it has not yet been fully realized.

Saturday is a day of tension; of living in the in-between. It is living with the hopeful anticipation that Sunday is coming, married to the grief-stricken pain of the reality of Friday. It’s knowing that Jesus does not lie and has promised a resurrection is coming but also holding the weight of the present sorrow. 

We have the hope of resurrection Sunday. At times, however, when we live with the present reality of loss and suffering, grief can feel like a lifetime of Saturdays. It’s having hope knowing the victory has been won but the battle ensues. It’s knowing that it is finished, yet not fully realized. It’s hoping in Christ’s promises while 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 present day ache that never fully lifts. 

As we wait for the glory of Sunday, we live through Saturday. I’m grateful to know the disciples endured the pain of Saturday, even though little is said about that day. I’m also grateful they got to experience the joy of promises fulfilled on Sunday. Words had been spoken that were hard to comprehend but faith was turned to sight as the disciples saw and experienced their risen Savior. I know it will be the same for those of us in Christ. One day, the final Sunday will come and what joy there will be on that day when all faith will finally be made sight.