On a Friday long ago, history pivoted on the crucifixion of a carpenter turned peripatetic teacher. Extraordinary darkness (Matthew 27:45) oversaw the events at midday as “the earth shook and rocks split” and the curtain guarding the Holy of Holies was torn, top to bottom (51). Much has been written of that day, awful as it was, now known as Good Friday for what his sacrifice means to Christians.
Similarly, for those who truly trust in the person and work of Jesus Christ, both during his sinless life (“active” obedience), and including his unjust arrest, trial and death (“passive” obedience), Resurrection Day receives its due honor, both in our seasonal holiday, but also in our celebration on the first day each week, Sunday. This resurrection was the ratification of the New Covenant – proof that this God-man, who “came into the world to save sinners” (1 Timothy 1:15), accomplished just that.
Oh, the horrors of that Friday…and sweet contrast, the joy of that Sunday!
What, though, of that day between? Other than the Jewish/Roman tomb-guarding tactics (Matthew 27:62-66), the Bible says very little about that particular Sabbath. In preparation for it, “the Jews asked Pilate” (John 19:31) to break the legs of those crucified in order to hasten their death so they wouldn’t hang on the Sabbath (traditionally beginning at sundown Friday). Having been found already dead, Luke tells of the request for Jesus’ body and his burial (Luke 23:50-56). Speaking of those involved, the account finishes, “On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.”
One must suppose that, for all these disciples who had so much hope in Jesus as the coming Savior, this had to be the most restless “rest,” and the longest, darkest, most hopeless Sabbath in history. Perhaps this rest met the requirements of the God-given law, and the casuistic, pharisaical codicils, but one can scarce imagine anything other than stomach-churning, doom-inspired, internal agony.
To be carefree on that day was to be oblivious to the expense and expanse of what happened the day before. To be downcast was to be unaware that hope entombed would spring forth more robust, like a simple seed to fragrant flower or an acorn to mighty oak.
For them it was a time in-between. Deaf to his numerous promises that “on the third day (the Son of Man) will rise again,” and mistaken in precisely what manner the Messiah would be crowned King, they suffered a Sabbath with no expectations but of persecution for their association with him. Ah, unbeknownst to them, what glory awaits with that coming dawn as hope is reborn!
What of us? We also are in a time in-between. We don’t suffer the emotional nadir of watching him die, pondering how the one with power over “the winds and the waves” (Mark 4:41), even over life itself (John 19:44), lies in decay. Neither, though, do we have their pinnacle of joy, seeing him alive again, face-to-face. But, Jesus blesses us in this existential difference – “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29b).
Our present struggle “between” means we see the crucifixion and bodily resurrection as God’s work in history – apparent defeat turned world-changing victory – so necessary for our hope (1 Corinthians 15:12-23). Blessed as we are to know the war is won, battles still rage. Life is hard. Happiness may lie beyond arm’s reach, but joy and a sure and certain hope remain, inextricably tied between his death and resurrection, and his promised return.
Indeed, “Christ Has Died, Christ Is Risen, Christ Will Come Again!”