Easter Saturday has never resonated as much as it does today. Good Friday is always a humble reminder of Jesus’ suffering, death and ultimate separation from God as a payment for my sin. Easter Sunday, always a day filled with hope and joy, focused on the resurrection of our Savior and His ultimate victory over sin and death. These days should always cause me to worship and repent and Hope.
But what about Saturday? I haven’t often given it much thought. This year is different. This year, I’m not only thinking about Easter Saturday, but I’m feeling it. Feeling it in an aching soul, tear drenched face kind of way.
Imagine the sadness, confusion, despair and hopelessness Jesus’ followers felt on Saturday. God allowed this pause between Jesus’ death and resurrection. How long must that Saturday have felt? Was this the end? Had they not understood Jesus? Is He really gone? What does this mean for everything they lived for? We know “Sunday is coming” but they did not.
These days feel a little bit like a never ending Easter Saturday. Our daughter is thousands of miles away, higher risk, in an orphanage just miles away from a COVID-19 hotspot. We are totally dependent upon two governments that are shutting down to protect their people with no timeframe to reopen. Meanwhile, our paperwork sits unprocessed, our daughter grows older by the day with no family, no medical care. This feels like a nightmare. There is much more at stake in this world than our daughter, I know. But I have to believe she matters to Him.
As we feel the heaviness of this season, we do not grieve as people without hope. I find myself scouring the internet, looking for a hopeful word about the virus. I find myself hoping for someone who has been through this before who can tell me it will be okay. But there aren’t many people who have adopted before who understand the hardship and no one who has adopted in a pandemic before. It’s so easy to misplace our hope, isn’t it? Our hope is only as strong as its object. What are we hoping for? Will God use the power that raised Christ from the dead to move mountains for our daughter to come home? I so desire that He will. But my hope can’t even camp there. My hope is a forever hope. The same power that raised Christ from the dead has fixed my greatest problem. My separation from God because of my sin has been overcome by the death and resurrection of Jesus. I have hope of being with Him today and for all of eternity. He has met my greatest need and He is near as I face these needs that tower over me today.
Maybe in some way, this season feels like Easter Saturday to you, too. Maybe the pain of this loss or suffering weighs so heavy on your heart that it’s hard to believe Sunday is on the horizon. It’s okay to feel that heaviness. It’s okay to wonder. It’s okay to plead with God. But even if the losses and suffering remain, Sunday is coming. Maybe the Sunday you’re looking for isn’t the one I’m talking about. Jesus’ friends and disciples didn’t know where to look either. We taste breakthroughs of this in our lives today, but the Sunday I am talking about is an eternal one. There will be a Sunday to come that will be perfect. No grief, no sorrow, no orphans, no virus, no death, no separation, no worry, no loss, no tears, no questions. If you have placed your trust in Jesus, this will be your experience for all of eternity. It’s okay to grieve, but remember your hope. I don’t know the end to this part of our story. But I know the end of the whole story. Hope wins. Hope still wins. Hope will win forever.