The Well
The Well |
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Connecting Hope to the Hurting | |
Saturday
March 22, 2008
By this time it was noon, and darkness fell across the whole land until three
o'clock. The light from the sun was gone. And suddenly, the thick veil hanging
in the Temple was torn apart. Then Jesus shouted, "Father, I
entrust my spirit into your hands!" And with those words he breathed his last.
When the captain of the
Roman soldiers handling the executions saw what had happened, he praised God and
said, "Surely this man was innocent." And when the crowd that came to see the
crucifixion saw all that had happened, they went home in deep sorrow. But Jesus'
friends, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a
distance watching.
Luke 23:44-49
I cannot imagine what the people who loved Jesus so dearly must have experienced that Saturday morning. Everything they cared about, everything they loved was gone. The temple was destroyed, Jesus was dead, and the disciples were scattered. Yet, somewhere — in Heaven, there was rejoicing. I share a writing from Max Lucado's book, Six Hours One Friday.
"He looked at the Prince of Light. 'The darkness will be great.' He passed
his hand over the spotless face of his Son. 'The pain will be awful.' Then he
paused and looked at his darkened dominion. When he looked up, his eyes were
moist. 'But there is no other way.' The Son looked into the stars as he heard
the answer. 'Then, let it be done.' Slowly the words that would kill the Son
began to come from the lips of the Father.
"'Hour of death, moment of
sacrifice, it is your moment…Oh, my Son, my Child. Look up into the heavens and
see my face before I turn it. Hear my voice before I silence it. Would that I
could save you and them. But they don't see and they don't hear.' ...God must
have wept as he performed his task. Every lie, every lure, every act done in
shadows was in that cup…The throne room is dark and cavernous. The eyes of the
King are closed. He is resting. In his dream he is again in the Garden. The cool
of the evening floats across the river as the three walk. They speak of the
Garden — of how it is, of how it will be.
"'Father…'The Son begins. The King
replays the word again. Father. Father. The word was a flower, petal-delicate,
yet so easily crushed. Oh, how he longed for his children to call him Father
again. A noise snaps him from his dream. He opens his eyes and sees a
transcendent figure gleaming in the doorway. 'It is finished, Father. I have
come home.'"
Yes, this is fictionalized, but God was saddened because His Son was shamed, humiliated, victimized, wounded, rejected, and crucified. God couldn't look; He is too holy. He had to dream of a time when things were good. We often must choose to do the same.
That Saturday was dark for those who had dedicated their lives to following Jesus. For us, we have this Saturday to prepare for the joy of what tomorrow brings. We know how the story turned out, but that Saturday, they didn't know. Yet, they walked in faith and hope. They remained true. Pray today, that we will remain true to Him in praise, prayer, and worship. Get ready for tomorrow with a new sense of hope, ready to rejoice in the resurrection.
