Saturday, 11 April 2015

The darkest day


Today, in Romania and the rest of the Orthodox world, it is Holy Saturday, the day before Easter Sunday. Today, many people are busy preparing for the celebration of Easter - cooking, baking, ironing clothes, getting haircuts, etc.  Easter here is an important event for most people, and thousands will be out at midnight for the traditional Resurrection service, where everyone lights a candle as a reminder that Jesus, the Light of the World, was raised from the dead and now shines forever!

I can't help thinking, though, how different our preparations for Easter are, compared with the experiences of Jesus' followers, on the day before His resurrection.  I imagine that was truly the darkest and longest day for them.

On the previous day, they'd suffered the shock and trauma of seeing their beloved Master, Teacher, Miracle-Worker and Friend betrayed, falsely accused, beaten to within an inch of His life - and then put on a cross and killed.  They'd seen it with their own eyes - and yet it was impossible to take in and understand.  They'd had high hopes that He was the Messiah, the One who would restore God's rule to His land, who would reign as King in Jerusalem.  They'd imagined years ahead in which sickness would be eradicated through one single word or touch, when corrupt religious leaders would be silenced and dethroned, and when all would come and bow in worship to Him, the Holy One.  They'd believed that peace had come to earth and that all would be well.  But in just one day, their dreams and beliefs were shattered into a million different pieces.

What went through the disciples' minds on that Saturday?  Were they replaying in their minds every word that Jesus had said to them, trying to make sense of it?  Were they angry that He had just let it happen - when He obviously had so much power that He could have stopped it all with His words?  Or were they just gutted, torn apart with grief and mourning for the One they had come to love so much?

I believe that, during that dark, dark Saturday, in the middle of their grief, Jesus' followers remembered that He had told them He would rise again on the third day.  After all, they knew that Pilate had ordered soldiers to guard the tomb, just in case.  Yet, I believe there was a battle in their minds and hearts - a battle between belief and doubt.  I imagine they desperately wanted to believe that Jesus would come back to life - yet it was such an unimaginable idea!  True, Jesus had raised people back to life - but He had done it with His words and His touch.  Who could do that for Him now?  Also, it was clear to them they had misunderstood Jesus' teaching on the Kingdom of God.  What if they had misunderstood this too?

I believe there are many times when we too are caught in a struggle between faith and doubt.  When we desperately want to believe that God is in control, but it is so hard for us to accept what we see around us. Let us take courage from the way Jesus accepted and reassured His followers after His resurrection, and pray, together with the father of the sick child healed by Jesus:  "Lord, I believe: help my unbelief!"

Rebecca Mace

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