Easily Excitable

When it comes to Easter, we think of Saturday as silent. 

For us, though, on this side of Easter, it probably couldn’t be further from that. 

If you’re anything like me, you’re preparing for what will be a loud, busy day tomorrow.

Sunday will be replete with getting ready for church, actually getting to church (semi-on-time-ish), going from church to lunch, and sprinkling a few pictures in there, too.

So, needless to say, there’s a lot of hustle and bustle, a lot of moving parts, to a pre-Easter Saturday. 

Our day is evenly split between fun and functional: we have some pickleball planned, but the agenda also holds a grocery run, a trip to Belk, and some deviled egg-making, too. 

Our 2024 Saturday isn’t silent. 

We live on this side of Easter- the one where we know the sacrifice was made, the promise of resurrection was fulfilled, that our eternal debt was paid with the blood of Jesus, and that He rose to conquer death. 

But that wasn’t the case for the disciples. 

Scattered, weary, disheartened, and terrified, the disciples were beaten down by the reality of Friday’s crucifixion- the worst day of their collective and individual lives. 

Mary grieved. 

Peter regretted. 

Thomas questioned. 

They all hid. They all feared. 

Now, I wasn’t there. If you didn’t know. 

Nevertheless, I have to think human nature stays the same. 

I have to think they were questioning:

What was the point of all that?

What was the point of Saturday in the Bible?

Jesus prophesied His own resurrection three days later, and according to Jewish belief, it takes three days for the soul to leave the body. 

From a textbook point of view, three days are required. 

But could the Saturday have also been recorded so that we could see and know that even those who knew Him in the flesh for three years still faced the turmoil of Saturday? 

Could it have been that we could learn that it’s okay to be afraid? 

That even the disciples doubted? 

That even the disciples had regret? 

Couldn’t that also be affirmation for our Saturdays, too? 

Could it be that the worst day of the disciples’ lives could be comfort for us now?

Our version of a Saturday looks a little different.

We all have our Saturdays: we all have the times when we have to reckon with the worst day of our lives and live without knowing what comes next. 

Saturday is when the smoke might have cleared, but your eyes still sting from it. Your worst fear came true, and you find yourself outright dizzy, dealing with the aftermath. 

If you’re reading this, chances are you’ve had your share of ‘darkest days.’

A firing from a job.

Miscarriage.

A broken relationship.

Bankruptcy.

The death of a child.

Finding out you can’t have children at all.

Divorce.

Infidelity.

The Friday is awful, but the Saturday- is that not one of the worst parts, too? 

The actual moment of ‘tsunami impact’ is over, but now, you face the aftermath.

Friday is a little more about the shock factor. Saturday is the unraveling. 

The Saturday stint of time (because, make no mistake, Saturday doesn’t last for only a single 24-hour span for us) is the shattering and scattering. 

Saturday is when we realize the playbook, fairy tale image of how a situation or even our life in general would turn out.

Maybe we look back and we regret what we didn’t do. Maybe we’re afraid.

We might be angry.

We could be questioning everything, be it about ourselves, another person, or even God Himself.

I’ve felt this before, but at no time more acutely than when my sister passed away.

The initial impact of Tuesday was awful, but the ‘Saturday’ stint of time thereafter was the hardest stretch of my life. 

When we were walking through the grief of her passing, I really started looking at all the different aspects of our relationship: the colors and the shades.

There were the childhood memories we have- times on Berkley Road, playing tennis together, fist fighting in the parking lot. 

Then, there were the not-so-great memories, painted by anger and shame.

I was confused because I didn’t feel there was any closure. 

I was angry because this didn’t feel like how the story was supposed to end. 

I regretted how I handled situations with her and wished I would have done things differently. 

From the seat of experience, I can only tell you that grief can make you wonder a little bit about what you think about faith.

What comfort there is that we’re not alone.

If there was a moment wherein the disciples had to doubt, surely it was Saturday. 

Surely it was in the wake of trauma. 

Surely it was when they knew the stone was rolled in place. 

They knew the mysteries they had seen with their own eyes. 

They knew that Jesus worked miracles. 

They knew the teachings they had held since they were little. But they still forgot. Isn’t that our story? 

We know what Jesus has done in our lives, we know the stories from the Bible, but what do we do in those moments when our own lives implode?

Another lesson from Saturday is the silent nature of our enemy. 

Satan has quite the mean quiet game, so the foes we meet as we process the hardest moments in life are largely silent. 

Fear slinks in. 

Shame whispers quietly. 

Anxiety slips in through the window. 

Paralysis takes a seat on your couch. 

Disillusionment slips its arm around your shoulders. 

Regret tiptoes across the floor. 

Anger ties knots around your stomach. 

These are enemies that don’t come in clanging pots and pans, announcing their entrance. They’re a whole lot sneakier than that. 

How daunting it feels to battle innumerable enemies that you didn’t even hear open the door in the first place. 

But here, on this Saturday, I have great news. 

Jesus has risen, and our eternal debt is taken care of (I’ll get to that in a minute). 

But specifically here, I want to focus on Jesus’ response to His disciples, locked in a room, on Sunday. 

He comes in, and all He says is, “Peace be with you!”

He had every right to come in and rage at His guys. He could have yelled, could have screamed. 

But instead, He offered two things they needed most: His peace and His presence. 

I like to think they go hand-in-hand. 

So, as you walk your Saturday road, I hope you’ll take heart that there’s space for what You’re experiencing.

There is space for your grieving, doubting, hurt, anger, sorrow, disillusionment, regret, shame- whatever it may be. 

Jesus’s presence with his disciples was proof of His life. He was resurrected!

He comes in, bringing His presence and His peace. It’s a peace that makes no sense from a human standpoint. 

His presence is near, and it’s not a looming, angry presence: it’s the compassionate presence and peace of the God who knows where you are, physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. 

He’s the God who experienced that for you. 

He’s the God who took your sin upon Himself that everlasting peace could be yours. 

He’s the God who reigns over all, yet still finds it a delight to walk with us.  

God can make good come from a Friday, and He can pick up the pieces on a Saturday. 

Today, in 2024, we know the King is risen- the Lion of Judah is alive. 

He reigns with all power and authority. 

He loves incomparably. 

He seeks relentlessly. 

He died willfully, and He rose triumphantly. 

We have seen the fulfillment of His promise: that this world is broken, yet the end has been written, the debt has been paid, and the battle has been won. 

Our God is alive!

And we will celebrate tomorrow that Saturdays are not hopeless in light of Sunday!

Hallelujah, Sunday is coming!

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