tomb: 40 words in 40 days

Holy Saturday is a day of quiet between the death of Jesus and His Resurrection. 

Friday the women waited outside the tomb. Joseph of Armithea had taken Jesus’ body from Pilate and laid Him in his own tomb. Saturday everyone went home to rest on the Sabbath “in obedience to the commandment.” Luke 23:56. For Jews then, the Sabbath was on Saturday.

Rest. Sit and wait. Obey without an indication of what comes next. These are the facets of Holy Saturday. These are the components of living in the now but not yet. 

Perhaps Holy Saturday is a paradigm of sorts to living in this age. Jesus is not in the grave. He is seated at the Father’s right hand. And yet we live in brokenness. Our bodies are racked by disease and and the long haul of aging. Our relationships do not bear the image of the glorified Christ. Our families often lie in ruins.

And yet Christ is at work in our bodies, in our lives, in our families, in our relationships. 

Holy Saturday is the day that Christ descended into hell. Hades and hell tremble on Holy Saturday. And today Christ is at work in the hell of our lives freeing captives, conquering death, opening blind eyes. 

It often seems like we are sitting at the tomb. We are assured of life and victory. Yet we look in and see darkness. We must believe that although we cannot see nor understand what is happening; we know the One who orchestrates our lives. 

To sit by the tomb on Holy Saturday is to wait on God to work and to believe that He will. In His time. In His way. We wait. We are present by the tomb.

darkness: 40 words in 40 days

Clouds roll in over Mt Vernon (home of George Washington). We toured there Tuesday.

Today is Good Friday - the day Jesus hung on a cross and died.

Recently, Lloyd Shadrach preached on this day. It has not left me since. God, he said, is present in our darkest moments.

As I reflected on this truth, it hit me that healing comes when we find resolution in this fact. He did not stop nor prevent my darkest moment. He orchestrated it. And He transcends it.

My first response to this truth has not always been comfort. I've experienced some anger and breathed hard questions. Like why? Exhale. And what now? Exhale.

My arrogance pales in the shadow of the cross when God poured His wrath out on His Own Son.

Lloyd said, there has never been a darker moment than the death of Jesus. Hope died. Perhaps loss is God's way of weening us of false hope.

I have no other hope than Jesus. He is not in the grave. He is alive.

Today I remember the darkest moment when the earth convulsed and the curtain was rent in two. Sin can no longer separate me from my God. The blood has won. Light has come.