Devotion: The Lost Day

” .”

~somewhere between Good Friday (John 19) & Easter Morning (John 20)

I remember driving through the city of Charlotte the day after the Panthers lost the Super Bowl to the Patriots. It was a cold and dreary day, and you could feel the funk that lay over the city.

Now…take that and greatly magnify it.

Having spoken to folks who have faced the tragic loss and death of a loved one, waking up the next day is brutal. You feel as if you are awakening from a terrible dream, when suddenly the crushing reality overwhelms you. The emotions come flooding in, and they are often far more powerful than on the day of the tragedy.

The day prior, you were caught up in the moment and the adrenaline was pumping. Yesterday, emotions were held in check because of the criticalness of every second; today, those emotions breach the dam and come flooding over you. You roll over in bed that next morning and feel the cold pillow beside you; in a flash you are reminded of the searing pain you experienced the day before.

I have always found it curious that there is absolutely no biblical record of Holy Saturday. The day between Christ’s death on the cross and His rising from the empty tomb. John, the beloved disciple, does not capture what he was feeling that day. Mark, writing down Peter’s account, does not ask him where he went or what he did. Luke, having interviewed eyewitnesses, was not curious about what Mary was up to. That day is lost in history.

But, in the lostness, you can feel their pain. In the lostness of that day, they join with all of us who have experienced tragedy, who struggle to get out from under the covers, who cannot keep the tears from tumbling down. The movement from the grave to the empty tomb includes this one day lost in history. The day of tremendous loss.

This too is part of Holy Week because the searing pain, the flooding emotions, and the desperate loneliness of that lost day must take root in our hearts for the day after that lost day–Easter morning–to turn our grief and mourning into joy and hope. We must go into the depths in order to experience the rising to new life.

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