hushed and holy

Were there any on that day, young or old or in-between, who remembered the words Jesus had spoken in preparation for His death and resurrection? Any who looked back on His promises with hope and faith, even while His broken body lay still and silent in the borrowed tomb?

Nearly all of His most faithful had forgotten. They huddled frightened in upper rooms, grieving shattered dreams, empty hopes, and the loss of their beloved Teacher. In their minds, the startling end of an era had come, just as they had been expecting to usher in His brand new world. Where did we go wrong? a few must have asked. What did we miss?

Oh, if they only knew!

Was there even one who answered these doubts gently, boldly—maybe a precocious child, a wise elder, a sensitive maiden—saying, “Peace, friends. Did not the Master say this would happen? We must wait in hope to see the promise fulfilled”?

That day was a Sabbath for them—a “special Sabbath,” according to John’s account. A Sabbath during Passover. I wonder … as they sat that day, observing their Sabbath rest, their hearts heavy, burdened with their load of grief and disappointment … in those quiet hours, did Truth begin to dawn for any of them? Did any sense the Spirit of God stirring in their broken hearts, preparing them to receive the joy the next day would bring?

They had heard the bleating of Passover lambs being led to the slaughter at the very hour Jesus breathed His last. Did any begin to draw the parallel between those lambs and the Lamb of God? Did some begin to sense the profound truth of blood shed to bring freedom playing out before their very eyes?

Three years Jesus had walked with them, taught them, opened before eager eyes the vision of a Kingdom that would never pass away. Surely as they sat stunned by the unexpected turn of events, some began to remember and speak of His teachings, to relive His miracles, to ponder and piece together His promises. Were there some—a select few—who started to wonder, “What if?” to pray God, “If only …”

Surely those who sought the grace of God in those dark hours were met with a lightening of their heavy hearts, a stirring of hope, of expectation, for—something—though they knew not what, in the hush of that holy Saturday …

Hopeful, expectant, when all hopes seem dashed. Secure in the truth of the Promise, when dreams have turned to ashes, when plans lie shattered like broken glass …

I like to imagine there was at least one who, through repentance and remembrance, found hope restored on that hushed and holy day …

And for this day, Lord, I’d like it to be me.