Dead Saturday

To experience The Brink of Easter....
     We MUST live through Dead Saturday.

For the church—the body of believers—the fellowship of Christians, the days of Easter marched by……        

            On “Ash” Wednesday, the 40-day journey to the cross began.

            On “Maundy” Thursday, Jesus prepared the table for us and washed the feet of his disciples.
    Even the feet of Judas.

            On “Good” Friday, Jesus hung on the cross.

           

Now. Today is Saturday.

Today is “that” Saturday.

The one without a special name.

The in-between Saturday.
The nothing Saturday.

The DEAD Saturday

I've never liked the unknown of waiting.

But today I wait.

The work on the Cross is finished.

The huge curtain in the temple is split… from top to bottom.

Jesus is buried.

The work in the grave is silent.

To me, this Dead-Saturday should be dark and gloomy and rainy and dreary.

And silent.

That’s how my soul feels.

Yet, on this Dead-Saturday in Texas the weather is bright, sunny, and warm.

Still, though, the cross down by our road stands empty.

I had no energy to dig out the black sack-cloth to cover the cross for this dead Saturday, but I ripped up the long, black, satin shroud that once draped over the cross on “Good” Friday and on Black Saturday. About three o’clock this afternoon of “Good Friday,” I draped the crosses around our home. I draped the few Nativities I keep out all year.

It is an exercise to keep my mind focused; to remember what it must have been like for the women who followed Jesus through his ministry,heard his preaching, listened to his teaching, saw his miracles. That Saturday, those women, all those followers hid because thier master was dead.

Today and tomorrow I busily prepare our home for Easter guests…cleaning, dusting, setting out fresh towels… and I work in the kitchen… stirring, simmering, and chopping… preparing for family to gather around my table on Easter Sunday. It is easy to get stay in today’s reality…. food, family, relationship, laughter, wedding planning, graduation, lamb cake, a house filled with things of the heart.

Those are good things. … gifts of our Abba Father…. things we hold dear… that are meaningful… healing. These are things God gave me to do. He gave me a special family with special needs at a special time late in my life. He asked me to feed these few children of His. He asked me to be patient, generous with my time. He asked me to be about His business. And, yes, He asked me to be a Martha.

Even though He said Mary was wise. Sometimes, like on a dead Saturday, all my wires get crossed, my missions tangle up with each other, my body grows tired, my spirit is faint.

The Lamb of God today lies dead and buried in the tomb.

This Saturday is dead.

BUT... I will watch. I will wait. Surely.... surely.... Resurrection Sunday WILL come.

The final Resurrection Day WILL come.

Fresh air will arrive.

Words will return.

Sleep will come.

Rain will fall.

Waiting is hard.

Hurry, Easter!

Your servant,  Liz, waits, Lord.