Therefore you too have grief now;

but I will see you again,

and your heart will rejoice,

and no one will take your joy away from you.

John 16:22

It’s Saturday morning. Jesus would still be in the grave… Yesterday around 12pm darkness fell upon the earth (Luke 23:44-45). The sun was obscured and the veil (Exodus 26:31-35, Matthew 27:51) of the temple was torn into and the rocks quaked. Then by 3pm He breathed His last.

Therefore when Jesus had received the sour wine,

He said, “It is finished!” 

And He bowed His head and gave up His spirit.

John 19:30

Around 3pm, He was removed from that Roman cross. His body beaten beyond recognition, His hands and feet with holes bore through them by the nails of this crucifixion, and His side pierced through by a Roman spear, His heart now empty of blood and water.

Joseph from Arimathea came and requested from Pilate the body of the Teacher, the Word made flesh… the One who was crucified as the world’s Passover, even though the world did not understand.

By 6pm Friday, Joseph would have Jesus tenderly and respectfully wrapped in linen and laid in the tomb. The women (Luke 23:55-56) would have carefully and weepingly, prepared the spices and perfumes to anoint His body. All doing as they honored Him with what they thought was their last opportunity to do so…

Then they left Him… I am sure in silence… each lost in their own memories of the most amazing human being they had ever met… and they knew their lives would never be the same… ever again.

By this time I am sure the others have heard of the suicide of Judas, the denial of Peter, the scattering of them all… all except John and the women who stayed and followed and witnessed it all.

I wonder if this day… they fought amongst each other. Each blaming the other for His death. I wonder if they pointed fingers and went through the event over and over and over in their heads thinking of all the ways they could have, should have, stopped what happened. I wonder if punches were thrown in their grief… human broken hearts in the flesh respond in such strange ways to great tragedy…

I can’t imagine the heart of Mary as she watched her Son that day.

I can’t imagine the despair of Peter as he carried his denial of the One he swore to follow even to his own death.

I wonder if they remembered Jesus words to one another, His last command to them and chose to obey Him here and love and comfort one another…

This is My commandment,

that you love one another,

just as I have loved you.

John 15:12

I wonder if they just sat in silence… numb to the pain by the shock of the events and the haste in which it all happened. One moment they are with Him, He is washing their feet, teaching them, sharing a meal with them, then the next He is taken… beaten… nailed… lifeless… buried in a tomb.

How?

Why?

Their worlds must have been spinning. Their emotions reeling. Their hearts melting. Their strength drained.

That Friday evening they went home… that Sabbath… they left His cross… His tomb… and they rested according to the commandment. They went back to what they knew… they went back to the Law.

Many of them were hid away behind locked door (John 20:19) afraid the Jews would come after them next… Yet some how, some where, John had found Peter (John 20:2). I imagine their were no accusations in the words of John toward Peter, no condemnation, no spite or blame.

I imagine John obeying his Teacher… and choosing instead to love Peter. I imagine John reminding Peter of all that Jesus had taught them. I imagine John telling Peter that the best way they can honor their Teacher is to continue to live out His life. I imagine John wrapping his arms around Peter while this broken man wept. I imagine John telling Peter of the rocks crying out, of the veil tearing, of the darkness, of the fear of those who once mocked the man on the cross having their mouths shut by the terror of the events that came at the moment He breathed His last…

I imagine Peter and John trying to figure out the how and why… going over in their heads everything He said and did… remembering the promises… the Scriptures… the prophets.

I imagine the women doing the same… led by Mary, the mother of Jesus, all the ponderings of her heart causing her to wonder, could this really be the end?

Yes Saturday, the Sabbath day, Jesus was still in the grave.

But Sunday is coming…