I wonder why Good Friday and Easter Sunday both have special names, but Saturday, sandwiched between them, gets no special designation. The day of Jesus' crucifixion, Good Friday, was one of horror and despair to His followers. Sunday, Resurrection Day, was one of rejoicing and affirmation of God's promises. But what was Saturday?
Saturday was a day of huddling in dark fear and loss. If any faith remained, it is not recorded. The ancient disciples of Jesus did not have our perspective of seeing ahead to Sunday. Saturday was a day where hopes and dreams of what was promised were shattered. They didn't know what to do so they did nothing. They cowered together in the place where they had once known He who claimed He would overcome the world. So where was He now?
Saturday is the symbol of where most of us live most of our lives. How often do we hear the cry, "Where is God?" How often do we utter it ourselves?
Yesterday, I met a beautiful horse. I cannot tell you much about it yet, as I need to clear it with the owner. However, I can tell you what the horse taught me. If we know who our master is, we will NEVER forget Him. If we know our master could be trusted in the past, we can trust Him in the future. If our master was someone who loved and cared for us, His apparent absence is not that He deserted us. He must have a plan that we may be unable to comprehend. He is there...but in a place we are not yet able to see. If we wait with expectant trust, He will return. If we behave as He taught us to behave, we may even get a big bucket of grain.
I think I would name Saturday: Hoping in the Midst of Despair Saturday. It's a little wordy, so probably won't catch on.
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