The worst day of the week...

I think Saturday had to be even harder than Friday.

Think about it from the disciples point of view, especially. Jesus died. Their king, their best friend, the One they loved more than anything, the One they gave everything up for, was dead. In a tomb. GONE.

Now what?

Everything they thought they knew, everything they thought they believed, everything they had planned, expected, anticipated and hoped for - GONE. Over. Done. The death of not only a friend - personal grief - but the death of the future. They weren't just mourning. They were BROKEN. Hopeless.

They were left with nothing but grief, sorrow, pain, despair, discouragement, and hollow, achy places where hope used to be. They thought they were following the One who would be their ruler. Save them from Rome. (and ultimately, He did. But as God loves to do, not in the way they expected. In a better way!) Not to mention suddenly their own lives were in danger for being connected to Christ. In a nutshell, they were screwed. Their worlds turned upside down in one awful Friday.

Friday was TERRIBLE. Yes. Like a nightmare.

But then they woke up. And it was Saturday.

And nothing was different.

I can't even write that without crying.

Oh friend, we get stuck in our own Saturday, don't we? We wake up from a nightmare to a reality that's worse. Even more discouraging. Even more desolate. Even more hopeless. Every new Saturday that dawns is like someone pushing rewind and replay on the movie Groundhog Day. Stuck unbearably on repeat.

But OH. OH. OH.

Sunday IS coming.

Whatever you're going through, friend, there IS hope. God isn't done with your story yet, just like He wasn't done with His own. Sometimes, Saturday can feel endless. I'm preaching to the choir here, y'all.

But Saturday does not last forever. IT DOES NOT.

Sunday is coming.

In fact, it's almost here.