A Perspective on Saturday

Mark 8:31-33, 9:30-32

We gather together as friends and family. It is a quiet day as we feel the weight of grief. There are moments of silence. It is hard to know what to say. Some of our closest friends are missing; they scattered, trying to process their own heartache. Who could blame them?

The noise of the city and the loud celebrations in places are too much. How could anyone rejoice over this? The events of the past few days echo in our minds—scenes we cannot unsee. 

Our leader, our dearest friend, the one who would change the world, who we knew would conquer all, now rests in a borrowed tomb. There is nothing we can do. Silence fills the room, again. 

In the midst of our sorrow, someone lightens the mood for a few moments by sharing a story or two about our friend, our brother. There is laughter, followed by tears. He is gone too soon. We needed more time.

We all agree, our lives were better when he was with us. And yet, even though He is not in this room. He is still with us.

In the silence, He is with us.
In our hurt, He is with us.
In our doubt, He remains.

His words, not our own, stir up new conversations. We grapple with the meaning.

“The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men. They will kill him, and after three days he will rise.”

Why didn’t we ask him what he meant when we had the chance?

Today is our Sabbath. A day for resting. A time for the silence to settle. Tomorrow we will visit his tomb. We will cry out our grief and sorrow to the rocks. We know God hears us. Maybe we will find answers. Surely, hope remains.

This can’t be the end.

Latest articles

Related articles