Saturday's Song

Author:
January 08, 2022

As we approach  the culmination of the Holy Week, I was struck by the significance of Saturday.  The day in between the Suffering Savior and the Risen Lord.  The day between the agony of death and the power of life.  That day.  The day we literally skip over in our talking yet the day we spend much of our time in the living.  Saturday. 

Friday brought shock, grief, despair, humiliation and ultimately death...not just to the Messiah but to the hope He spoke of; the promise of Kingdom Come.  Friday brought a crushing blow to Jesus and His followers.  We, as Christians, remember the sacrifice but we always see it in light of the Resurrection.  We know Sunday was on its way.  We are not holding our breath or silently hoping for a different ending to the story.  We know what happened.  If we have believed upon Jesus, our hope is in crucifixion and the resurrection.  With Sunday around the corner, we can hop over Saturday.  With the Resurrection accomplished, why concern ourselves with the burial?

His death was payment.  His resurrection was power.  Friday mattered.  Sunday mattered.

Saturday...just the day in between.

Except, Saturday for the disciples mattered a great deal.  Can you imagine watching the crucifixion with the backdrop of Jesus’ miracles, teachings, love, preaching of hope and Kingdom...inviting nobodies into a relationship with the God of Creation and having the supernatural power to raise the dead, heal the sick, set captives free and declare forgiveness to the previously unforgiven ones?   Can you imagine watching the Son of God, promised Messiah, light of the world be arrested, beaten, tortured, humiliated, mocked, nailed to a cross, and hang there, helpless, alone, weak, in unendurable pain until He was dead?

The grief and shock must have been unbelievable.  The spin of emotions must have been dizzying.  Death didn’t just come upon Jesus but upon all who had believed in Him. and then the business of burying Him.  Friday came to an end and then Saturday was upon them.

Saturday is where reality assaults faith.  Where circumstances mock belief.  Where disillusionment overshadows hope.

Saturday is where coping mechanisms and survival techniques are activated.  Saturday is where “get your head out of the clouds” thinking is employed.  Saturday is where we learn to mitigate disappointment through success, denial, death to desires and dreams.  Saturday is where we try to self-protect (we never want to feel that way again); where we self-resolve (if it is to be, it’s on me); where we live in the shame of what’s wrong with me or the pride of what’s wrong with you; its where we live as victims of our circumstances or the master of our destiny; its where money, sex, alcohol, drugs, power, possessions, accomplishments, people become our source of being.  Saturday is where we give up or try harder.  Saturday is where we live out of our broken hearts...either by denying they are broken are resigning ourselves to the handicap.

I know Saturday very well.  I heard Jesus call me to follow Him and it was the first time I had encountered true love.  I said yes with all the faith, hope and trust in my heart that I could imagine.  I saw miracles.  I experienced life and joy.  His teachings moved me; changed me.
He promised me more of the same...in abundance.    AND THEN... 

One day, He didn’t “save” me like I expected.  
One day, I didn’t understand Him and He didn’t explain Himself.
The Jesus I thought I knew seemed to be unable to do what I thought He promised and I was left in numbing disappointment.
Saturday looked like a mom who never loved me and finally left forever
Saturday looked like marrying a man I thought would protect and rescue me and he couldn’t
Saturday looked like a series of failed businesses I was sure God had placed in our hearts.
Saturday looked like being a mom to an son trapped in addiction whom I heard the Lord say “He would be wise in good and innocent concerning evil”
Saturday looked like friendships that rejected, betrayed and sliced open my heart while I wondered why
Saturday was watching everyone else seemingly go on with their lives without gaping wounds
Saturday looked like churches that reinforced the idea I don’t belong/fit in/ I’m not enough/ I’m too much/ I’m missing something essential
Saturday looked like I had misplaced belief and was to settle for Sunday coming when I was dead.
What does your Saturday look like or feel like?

So, these babies...how a Saturday?  Well, my daughters have all struggled with pregnancies...whether conceiving, carrying or delivering...it’s all been difficult and scary.  But not this one.  This was the 2nd pregnancy of my oldest...identical twin girls...with ease, excitement and no expectation of bad news.  It was redemptive and restful and the words of promise and prophecy over these babies...Wow!!  Until. 

The babies are in trouble.  Their hearts are malformed.  They may not survive birth.  They have diseased livers.  NICU, specialists, bad news and more bad news.  Another Saturday.  Friday had offered a death blow to promise and we were waking up to another reality other than what  we had believed.  BUT...this Saturday was different.  All my other Saturdays had been largely informed by the despair and confusion of my Friday.  This Saturday was being informed by the inevitability of Sunday.  I had always believed that Jesus was no longer in the tomb, but I was.  And I was alone in that place.  Sure,  He was waiting for me in Sunday but I didn’t know how to get there. 

This time, the dark night of my soul became the light of my salvation.  He was with me in the tomb.  He was Jesus upon that Cross as the perfect sacrifice and He was Jesus when the stone was rolled away, alive in resurrection power, AND He was Jesus in the tomb too.  Where I assumed everything was over and stillness and darkness prevailed... God was at work to break chains, snatch keys, open doors and preach hope to the prisoners.  The space between the death and resurrection was not wasted or just a holding place until Sunday...it was a whirlwind of God activity too.  And so it still is.  Our Saturdays matter to God.  He is the beginning and the end but also everything in the middle.  He is at work to bring all that has been lost, stolen, depleted, broken, twisted to Resurrection.  There was purpose in the tomb. 

Back to the babies...4 months in...hearts resurrected.  Livers, as of this week, resurrected...eye issues, trauma issues still being healed.  The Savior of Friday, the Triumphant King of Sunday is the God of Strenuous Saturday.  Knowing this one thing changes everything about my Saturday’s Song.  As you persevere in your Saturday...whatever that is to you...may you encounter the Person of the Sunday who keeps His promise in unusual and mysterious ways.

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