That Dark Day

As an avid reader, I always love the suspense that each page turn can bring. You may be agonizing over a literary tragedy one minute, but there is always hope that the turning of a page will bring resolution, relief, and clarity to your beloved hero.

Today, as I was reading about the dark days following Jesus' death, looking out at my own grey-blanketed morning, I realized the immediacy of the disciples dread and terror. Their friend, Savior, Teacher, and living hope had just died; died a gruesome death that we can't even fathom and that no movie rating could even cover. He was gone.

I don't mean to bring up sad memories for anyone, but do you remember the sense of grief after you've lost someone so close to you? I remember the darkness, the absolute dread of opening my eyes the next morning because I just didn't want to remember that person was gone and no matter how much I missed them, how much I needed them, they weren't going to be there anymore.

I'm sorry if this brings up memories for you, but today my experienced grief showed me a new way of seeing the Gospel story. Before, when I read the story of Christ's death, and I would see the words describing the disciples pain and the women mourning, it never touched my heart fully. The reason? I know the ending. I know what the next page will bring. I know that tomorrow I will celebrate a risen Savior, but they didn't. They don't know the resolution was coming, that Jesus was more than a miracle worker. They were grieving, they were scared, they were confused, and they had no end in sight. They felt everything that we feel when grieving a loved one.

Their pain and grief was immediate. The men sequestered themselves to mourn and the women prepared what they could to give Jesus the burial they thought He deserved. And then they waited; waited for the passover to be completed before they could relieve themselves of the burden on their hearts by just simply doing something for Him. One last act of service.

They didn't know their page was about to turn.

Falling like the Psalmist

"The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand."

Psalm 37:23-24

I am afraid I can recall a few journal entries that would not reflect the truth found in this verse, but I love the scene this verse paints. I can picture a man walking on a path already worn into grooves and footprints of past travelers. As he tries to discern where to go from what little he understands and can see before him, Christ comes along to travel with him; guiding him with His hand. He continues to point out which path to avoid, and which footprint to step into next.

I love how the Psalmist then points out the when of the man's fall, not the if. If the man is walking, delighting, and holding on to Christ's hand with a willingness to be led, then when he falls, the fall will not be the tragedy it could be. Because just as his body braces for the certain impact, he feels a tug on his arm. Christ is still holding firmly to his hand, and the man will not fall as far as he could have.