Saturday

Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. – Isaiah 53:4-6

He is in the tomb. It is quiet – the travail and torture of good Friday is over. All creation holds its breath.

We don’t often think about the quiet, tense Sabbath the disciples endured the day after the crucifixion. What a horrible day that must have been for them. They didn’t know that the next day would usher in a joy that, on Saturday, they wouldn’t have believed possible.

Sunday came, our lovely Lord Jesus rose from the dead, and nothing has been the same since.

In my own life I enjoy the happy results of that amazing day. I stand forgiven, a child of God blessed through and through, a partaker of Kingdom blessings and of a joy and peace that passes understanding. And yet in one way it is still Saturday – someone I love more than my own life is spiritually dead and cold. I wait and I pray for Sunday to dawn in this precious life, knowing that without Jesus there is no hope of resurrection. In Him alone do I have hope.

I praise the God of Resurrection Sunday!

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