So now, it is Saturday, the day after Christ’s crucifixion.
Not only have Christ’s followers lost their Savior, they are on the run. They are thinking that they are next.
Even worse, they have the guilt of their own failings to contend with. Judas sold his soul to the devil (the political and religious leaders of the day who wanted Jesus gone) for a 30 pieces of silver.
A little back story on Judas…he was against Christ making any kind of capitulation to the powers that be. He was vying for his place in history. He wanted to be on the right side of Christ, the new leader who was gaining more and more acceptance as the King of Kings (despite his humble appearance). Judas was watching his claim to fame evaporate as it became increasingly clear that Jesus wasn’t going to fight City Hall, so to speak. Christ conceding to the leaders who wanted to arrest him meant Judas would have no chance to take a leadership role in a new world order.
So what’s an ambitious guy to do when his well-laid plans are disintegrating? He ingratiates himself with the other side by betraying Jesus. He not only got 30 silver coins, but he hoped to curry favor and save himself by throwing Jesus under the bus. Judas’ betrayal of Jesus was an ill-conceived, shameless power grab.
And Peter. He swore he would always pledge his allegiance to Jesus. He would never disavow his relationship to Christ, but the second that things got dicey, he insisted that he had no knowledge of Jesus…and he did it three times, just as Jesus said he would. Peter just wanted to save himself.
So ambition, greed, and self-preservation won the day, but at a terrible cost. Judas was so consumed with guilt that he hung himself. Several years later when Peter was about to be crucified, he insisted on being hung on the cross upside down. His reasoning? He didn’t deserve to die in the same manner as Christ.
While you and I have never experienced exactly what Judas and Peter did, we all have experienced loss. We all have made mistakes that we deeply regret. We all have had cherished hopes and dreams go awry, to one extent or another.
The Saturday between Good Friday and Easter is the darkest day. It’s ‘the land in between’ death and resurrection. I imagine that this was a day of unspeakable mourning for Christ’s followers.
This must have been the kind of day where grief was so heavy, so overpowering that it made just breathing in and out a task that felt too great to bear.
I imagine this was a day when those close to Jesus wept and wondered, “Now what?”
I’ve had days like that. I’ve learned (the hard way, of course) that it’s better to just let the wave of sorrow wash over me, although I consistently try, unsuccessfully, to hold that wave back.
I’ve also learned that, as dark as the hardest of times are, all is not lost.
I’ve learned that God comes in when life brings me to my knees because I’m too exhausted to reason away His existence as is always my wont.
I’ve learned to let God in because I am 100 percent certain, in those agonizing times of sorrow, loss and defeat, that I can’t take another step without Him.
These are the moments when I surrender completely, not in some grand, come-to-Jesus way, but simply because I have nowhere else to go, and no idea how to find my way forward.
I’ve learned that these are the moments when faith bubbles up.
These are the moments when miracles happen.
These are the moments when I have eyes to see God, and when God gives me eyes to see me…my true self. My divine self.
This ‘land in between’ death and resurrection is where the blessings are getting ready to make your cup overflow.
The hardest part is that we just have to wait for it.
With love, light and prayers for peace whenever you find yourself in this land in between.