The day inbetween. The moments of waiting and hoping that make up our lives until Sunday comes. The Sabbath comes, the day of rest but with a body in a Tomb. A day of desolation and the emptiness of grief. It is right to sit in the darkness and feel the desolation before moving to quickly to the end point of it all. This world has too many unanswered questions, too much brokenness to not take time to sit in the darkness. To reflect on the blackness of the day in which it seemed like God had vanished from the scene. We can too quickly jump to the end.
The real hope though, in that darkness, is that one day this darkness will pass. One day our Sunday will come. Sam and Frodo can express this better than I ever could.
“Frodo: I can’t do this Sam.
Sam: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo: What are we holding on to Sam?
Sam: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it’s worth fighting for”
We live out our Easter Saturday moments not in the despair of hopelessness but with the knowledge that Sunday came and that means another Sunday is coming. Cry from your hearts. Sense the despair and then cry out. Come Lord Jesus.