He’s dead

Jesus dies today. As Christians we believe that is a true story, and that truth is what sets us free; free from sin and captivity. He paid the price and was our ransom. And all that other christian jargon we hear repeated over and over during this time of year. Then comes the best cliche of all… “But Sunday’s coming”. 

I get it, and I even believe it- with my whole heart. But something’s always felt missing. 

Sunday is coming, but what about Saturday? Jesus died- for you and for me (and for all the people you don’t like, or who you think aren’t worth of grace and forgiveness. Your wrong about that BTW) and He rose again– on Sunday. But what as Christians are we to do with the dark day in between? 

On Saturday Jesus was dead and gone, along with the hope head promised. The disciples spent the day hiding in fear of being arrested, probably caught up in their sadness of Jesus murder and in their confusion of Judas betraying them all. 

Some believers ‘celebrate’ the day known as Holy Saturday by living that day in contemplative reflection as we think about how hopeless and terribly depressing our world would be without the light of Christ’s resurrection. 

I was first introduced to the concept of Holy Saturday by my good friend Stephanie. She came to visit our first Easter here in Phoenix. She shared with us the meaning and practice of this day,and we chose to join in this observation by spending a calm and introspective day in the back yard. Not in a church, or expansive place of worship, but the back yard on our lawn chairs as my boy played with bubbles and chased birds. 

We talked about times of personal sorrow and disappointments. Times where we felt lost or abandoned, even by the Lord. That happens for believers too, sometimes God seems silent. 

Funny story: little at was 5 years old when we first observed Holy Saturday with Stephanie in the back yard. As he was walking around, he found something. He ran up to me with excitment as he said, “Mommy! I found an Easter egg!” I was confused as I hadn’t put any eggs out yet. In his hand was 3/4 of a small blue egg shell. A real one. The baby bird hadn’t emerged too long before. I proceeded to lose my mind. In my head he was now covered in bird flu, swine flu, and possibly Ebola. I panicked and frantically told him to put it down. He refused, and I kept screaming. I tried to grab it from him, and in his attempt to keep it, he squeezed his hand shut and shattered the germ infested bird egg. Then we all doubled over, cracking up. Little didn’t think it was nearly as funny as it really was…

Holy Saturday is full of great memories. 

When you spend the day before Easter (in my openion, the best day of the year. The day that restores hope for living with Jesus and the the kingdom of God here on earth, as well as for eternity. The day that shows us that Jesus was totally legit, and had it right the whole time. It’s better than Christmas and even better than my birthday- and my birthday is AMAZING) in contemplation of how hopeless and desperate life could be without a risen Lord, it makes Sunday so much sweeter. 

So if you don’t have plans for tomorrow, you may wanna observe Holy Saturday for yourself too. And if you are in the Phoenix area, you are welcome to come to our backyard and Holy Saturday with Team Barnes. 

Grace and peace to you as we celebrate our risen Lord.