As I tromped through the graveyard Saturday morning, I was quite aware that it was the silent Saturday.
As a friend so eloquently wrote in a song entitled The Day In Between, "Not much is said of the Day in between Christ's death and his resurrection. Resting on the Sabbath as they did every week, sure they had time for reflection. They had their doubts, their fears, did God even hear, they He know they had killed the Messiah."
I tried to place myself in the shoes of a disciple who followed his rabbi for 3 years, learning everything he could in an attempt to become more like him. Every premise of his divine nature seemingly crushed and shattered. Like sheep they scattered in fear without their shepherd, their Jesus who had led them and pushed them to become better men, men like he was. And yet that last line sticks in my heart. He was and yet he was also God. To think he came down and interacted with humanity in such a way that He allowed us to kill him.
My friend's song continues, "But God was doing something in between, God was doing something they can not see." And that is what I reflected on yesterday morning. That not because of the silent Saturday, but rather the triumphant Sunday morning, I can follow my rabbi, my king, and my friend. He who is savoir, redeemer, and restorer.