It’s Saturday. Two thousand plus years ago on a day like today You were dead to us. Hidden behind a stone. You came to us full of grace and truth and we thought You’d make our circumstance right, right away. But now it’s Saturday and you seemed to lay defeated by our wrongs. You were the only good Man and we killed you. And you didn’t use your superpowers to save yourself from us.
If I was there, and I didn’t have the Book and I couldn’t read Psalm 16 or know the end of the story is glory and resurrection life, I would be as unbelieving as Thomas and the disillusioned followers you met on the road to Emmaus… and to my own shame, even though I do have the Book and I’ve heard the story and I’ve believed, so often I’m an unbelieving believer like Thomas and the slow of heart to believe on the road to Emmaus.
But I do have the Book. Oh thank you for preserving your Word! I can read, and I’ve heard that old, old story about a Savior came from glory. How we didn’t just kill him, but he willingly gave his life on calvary to save a wretch like me. I heard about his groaning. He didn’t use his superpowers to save himself from me, rather His miraculous power was in His precious blood’s atoning.
As I read Psalm 16 this morning, I thought about how You communed these words with the Father. I wonder if there in the garden as the weight of the cup the Father gave you overwhelmed you and you cried out for another way, I wonder if then Psalm 16 was fleshed out in you as you said, “Not my will, but yours be done.”
Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure. For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption. – Psalm 16:10
Even though the cup was more terrible than anything I could ever imagine, You knew the Father would not abandon you to corruption. You knew, though you would have to suffer the forsakenness I had coming from the Father, though you would have suffer the totality of physical, emotional and spiritual death wrought by the sin of every fallen soul who ever has or will live, and though you would have to descend into hell and be dead to us for 3 days, you knew that the Father was good and that you would rise and bring many to life.
So now it’s Saturday. To me it seems since that day that I heard about your precious blood’s atoning, at-one-ing me with You; since that day when I looked at You hanging on a pole- a curse because of me, all my sin in you hanging there, being put to death, paying the debt I owe- since that day life feels like Saturday to me. I know one day You will come again. I know one day I will rise. I know because You’ve preserved your Word and I’ve heard Your story and by your grace I believe it.
And I wait, because Sunday came for You and it will come for me too!
Sheila Dougal 