Easy like Sunday morning

I write this at 10:40 PM on Saturday. This is the Saturday before Easter. We Christians, especially us Protest-ants, get fired up about Easter. I imagine the Saturday before the first Easter was the darkest day for the men and women that followed Jesus. It is the only day where Jesus was dead. He was in a tomb. His body was breaking down. Decay was doing its thing. His body was stiff and cold. He was not asleep. He was dead. Deader than Friday if that is even possible.

My kids were looking for Easter eggs. My church provided inflatable games for the kids to run and jump through. We have no clue what was going on in the minds of the disciples. They were in hiding. They were soundly defeated. This was the Sabbath. This was their first Sabbath in three years without Jesus. This was not the Messiah they had been looking for. Messiah was going to make everything right. Seven days before they would have argued amongst themselves about their position in the kingdom that was about to be set up. Who would have the prime seat next the throne that Jesus was about to occupy. The events of the previous day put all of those pointless arguments to rest. This was not the Messiah they were looking for. I am pretty sure they would not have envisioned games and fun on this day. We know what happened on Sunday morning. We know that death did not hold on to Jesus. He raised himself.

On Saturday Peter, James, John, and the rest were hiding as if their lives depended on it. Was Judas still swinging at the end of his rope? This was a dark day and a darker night. What were their dreams like on that Saturday night? What were their nightmares?

For the five of you that will read this it will most likely be Sunday. It promises to be a beautiful day. The sun will rise and you will dress up (I’ll even have on a suit and tie) and go to church and hopefully your Sunday will be easy. As easy as Lionel thought that he was when he penned these words. But think about how dark that Saturday was nearly 2000 years ago.