Today I wanted my feet in the dirt. I wanted to feel what it would have been like to be there.
I didn't just want the story. I wanted the side stories and the emotions and the conversations.
What must they have thought?
Friday He was nailed to a cross to die for us. The only good man who ever walked this Earth, died the death we all deserve in our place.
But some believed He was the Messiah. Some believed He was the son of God. He was their only hope.
The disciples had left their previous lives behind to follow Him.
And then the unthinkable happens. He dies a sinner's death. And then what?
His body is prepared and placed in the tomb.
And on Saturday, everything they had believed to be true about God and the Messiah was suddenly gone. Vanished. Dead in a tomb.
What was there to hope for?
An entire day without the hope of a Savior. It must have been gut wrenching. It must have been paralyzing.
What do you do when that which you once hoped for and believed in is dead?
How do you move on?
I had to put myself there. With my feet in the dirt. What would it have been like?
I imagine that...
I've heard Him preach. I've seen His miracles. I believe He is the Son of God.
And then I see Him beaten to a point where He is unrecognizable. I watch as he is nailed to a cross to slowly and painfully die.
I hear His words: "Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit."
And then He is gone. The man who brought the dead back to life. The man who made the blind see and the deaf hear. And yet He couldn't save himself.
Now, what is there to hope for? The hope of the world is dead.
It must have been an awful day to live through. Was it worse than the cross? To live without hope?
Have you ever thought about that Saturday? The day without hope...
Tomorrow may you rejoice in the Sunday when He rose. May you praise Him for the Sunday when the stone was rolled away and He was not there.
May you celebrate this Easter with Hope.
.....day 239 of a year of writing....