It was the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.
The unthinkable had happened
They had to be numb.
Maybe thinking, “We thought we knew what Messiah would do:
establish a new kingdom on earth,
free Israel from oppression,
fulfill all the prophesies.”
But Jesus had been executed. Dead. Buried behind rock.
What must they have felt, that long Sabbath Saturday?
Crushing sorrow? (Their leader, friend, brother, son died)
Hopeless? (The dream was gone)
Denial? (This wasn’t supposed to happen)
Doubt? (Had they gotten something wrong? Or was it all a fraud?)
Questions? (How could God be in this?)
Directionless? (What now?)
I’ve been there.
These have been my own laments on my long dark Saturday of soul.
Sorrow. The Elli-shaped hole in our family is cavernous.
Dreams twice-gone — first her typical life and then her physical life.
Denial. Children aren’t supposed to die. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their babies.
Questions. So many questions. How could God allow all of this? What is he doing? How can he possibly redeem this evil? Don’t you dare tell me it can become good.
Doubt. Where is she now? Did she know enough to believe? Will I see her again? Where do the souls of children who die go, anyway? Do I trust God with her?
Do I trust God?
Jesus’s followers didn’t know Easter morning was coming.
They didn’t know that Jesus was that very Saturday defeating sin and death and hell so that we could face our own death without fear.
They didn’t know that this greatest evil ever committed would be our salvation.
But I know.
Here, on this Saturday in between, I can confront my questions with the answer of Easter.
I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
(Galatians 2:20)
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Beautiful Joy. Poignantly beautiful. <3
Such an excellent reminder. Thank you for this, Joy.
I have been pondering the waiting too today. What a beautiful post. Have a beautiful Easter.
Ah, sweet Joy. As always, you write well, with such thoughtful, honest, heart-rendingly real words of hope reaching out into the darkness. Yes, your sweet Elli is with Jesus. “Let the little children come…” Oh, never doubt that great loving heart of our Lord for little ones like your dear blessed girl.
I am so very sorry for your loss, for the pain you still – and always! – carry with you in that Elli shaped hole in your own heart. Breathe deeply of her this Easter Sunday; remember her with love and gratitude, offer your fears about the unknown to the Risen Lord of Life.
I believe Elli knew Jesus better than most of us – and it has nothing whatever to do with whether she was old enough to understand! LIke all those born with pieces that work differently than the rest of us, she knew with every cell of her body of the goodness of God. I don’t understand this mystery, but I do believe that these special ones are bound to God by invisible cords of love, that they reflect to us our own need for grace, our utter dependence upon the loving and tender care of Another. You were given a special gift – one that comes with a lot of heartache, excruciatingly hard work and lots of questions! But you know this – your Ellie was (and is) a gift beyond measure.
Early in my ministry life here in the community where I am now retired, I participated in the baptism of a 26 year old son of a loving couple in our congregation. He suffers from multiple cognitive and physical difficulties that have never been definitively diagnosed. But he understood enough to stand in the swimming pool with us, (he did NOT want to be dunked – so we poured water over him), and when asked if he was ready to be baptized into death/life in Jesus – he said over and over again, “Ready! Ready! Ready!” Imagine that your little one is saying words like that to her Shepherd.
I will pray for tender dreams for you in the next few days, reminders of her that bring comfort as well as tears, deep joy as well as sorrow. Thank you so much for your honest searching, for your refusal to put on a ‘happy face’ when it gets tough. Your words are always, always a blessing to me.
A most blessed Resurrection Day to you and yours, Joy. (I have a daughter named Joy – she is and you are!)
You are amazing. I think if I said that to you in person you would deny it. That’s fine. Just know that this post is powerful and needed. We all face those long Saturdays of darkness.
But Sunday IS coming. One day the sadness and doubt will all be a memory.
Love your posts. Many blessings to you Easter weekend!
Joy, you write poetry.
You are poetry.
So good. Happy Easter, Joy. Thanks for sharing that he is risen.
Sweet Mama – these dark nights of the soul – so hard to articulate and yet you’ve managed to do so with grace and light.
Thank you for it. Am so very glad to know that your faith continues to bolster you, if not, in tiny ways, heals the bits of your heart left behind.
Thought of you today, at church, when DS2 turned to ask, “Does God live here, Mummy?”
Yes. Yes He does.
DS1: I thought he lived in our hearts.
He does that, too.
This is beautiful and profound. Thank you for sharing…