Easter Weekend

Today was Good Friday. Good Friday always causes me to pause and be simultaneously overjoyed and heartbroken. I am overwhelmed with gratitude at what Jesus willingly agreed to suffer through for my sake. I love that He was so human He begged for there to be a way not to do it. His humanity makes me trust Him. But I love that He did it anyways, without reluctance, hesitation, or whining. I am heartbroken that He suffered physically, emotionally, spiritually. I hate that He was beaten and bullied. Most of all, I hate that it was my fault. Come mid-afternoon, I can't help but wonder what it must have been like that day in Israel. Darkened sky, Temple veil ripping from top to bottom. The detailed descriptions of that day and that week always amaze me. The authors didn't just say that the veil had a little snag or even was torn. It was split all the way, starting at the top. I think if I heard and saw all that happened that day, it would have at least caused me to reevaluate things, if I didn't already believe.

Easter Sunday makes me so stinkin' happy I want to cry. I pretty much smile all day on Easter. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the gift of Life, Love, and Salvation year round. But there is something so intrinsically special about Easter morning. I mean, Christmas without Easter is meaningless. Good Friday without Easter is meaningless. Conquering death forever is pretty spectacular. And I relish in the love and joy and mercy and peace that abound because of what Jesus did Easter Sunday.

But Saturday has always intrigued me. I'm a very curious girl and time has done little to quelch that curiosity. In my mind, I refer to it as Silent Saturday. (After all, most of the other days get spiffy names.) Silent because nothing is written about the goings-on that day. Did the whole world collectively hold its breath, waiting for Sunday? Waiting to see if He was for real? What did the apostles and disciples think and feel that day? What did they do? What did they talk about and say to one another? And how about Lazarus, the recently departed and resurrected? And his sisters? What of Mary, Christ's mother? And His siblings? What must their emotions have been? I know Lazarus' sisters had been on a roller coaster of emotions (our brother's dead; our brother's not dead; our best friend is dead; is he really?)

We have all lost loved ones. Some have lost parents and siblings. Others grandparents and friends. Still others a spouse. All these losses are deeply painful. For those in Christ, we know it isn't a forever end but the pain is still real. And those deaths are permanent on this side of Heaven. How do you grieve for someone you honestly expect to see in two days? Do you grieve? Do you patiently wait, having those around you assume you're in denial? What happened on that Silent Saturday?

And Jesus - what must His soul, His spirit have experienced during the time His body was deceased? I cannot even fathom. I believe in near-death experiences. But this was not an NDE. This was really, truly, all the way dead. Did He want to put back on the shackles and pain of humanity? I mean, I know He was willing to because it was the only to reconcile. But what happened on that Silent Saturday?

That's what I'll be continually pondering tomorrow. And probably one of the first questions I'll ask on the other side of Heaven. But until I get there, I'll just have to wait and wonder.