i wonder what it was like that saturday? i wonder who was annoyed and frustrated. i wonder who was saving face and saying they didn’t really believe he was who he said he was? i wonder who was scared, thinking that because they were friends with him that they would be next? i wonder who felt duped? i wonder if any scholars started checking facts to see if it all added up…or not? i wonder who cried? i wonder who was relieved? i wonder who tried to pretend like nothing had ever happened? i wonder if they were going over the confusing things he said that week attempting to figure out what would happen next? i wonder…
It must have been an odd day. Business wasn’t quite as usual, I imagine. It was the Sabbath, so the people to whom he belonged would have been resting. How interesting that was the day that they were left without him…the day that was created for us to enjoy him. They didn’t know that it was the in between. They didn’t know that it would be over soon. They didn’t start counting the hours because they didn’t know that it would end. They didn’t know he was coming back.
So they waited.
Perhaps? Did they even feel like they were waiting? Or was it another odd feeling of tension? Sadness? Confusion?
It was a specific kind of waiting. They weren’t waiting for the resurrection exactly as we now know that it happened because they most likely didn’t know what that would all look like. Nonetheless, they waited, even if they didn’t know it.
I don’t like waiting like this. I imagine that if I were there, I would have been confused. I would have expected nothing but wanted something. I would have expected him to stay dead. I wouldn’t have felt like I was waiting for something drastic, but I would have been waiting and wondering what would happen next. Would it be all normal again one day? Would something happen? Would anything change because he had lived?
Back-then waiting sometimes feels like right-now waiting. I have the assurance that Jesus has conquered death, that the battle is over and that all sins are forgiven, but I still have to wait. I still feel like I live in Saturday and hope for Sunday…all because he lives.
That job that’s going nowhere. That relationship that got messy. That place to live I can’t find. Those hopes for what life would be at this age when it’s clearly not. That child making terrible choices. That marriage that’s struggling. The disease that’s not getting any better.
Jesus brought with him the Kingdom of Heaven. With him came a new kind of hope and healing, forgiveness and future, and a Spirit within all of us who believe he is who he said he was and that our life—literally—depends on what he did. It’s different. Drastically different.
But in the same-but-different-way as that infamous Saturday, we wait. We don’t know if the circumstances will change or that the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead will change our own hearts because of the circumstances. We wait. Palms up. Expectantly. Hope-filled. With our eyes wide open to what the God who conquered death will do during the in between and gazing upon what will be because unlike those people over 2000 years ago, we know who has won. The Kingdom is here, and the Kingdom will come.