They remembered Friday.
How could they not? The sounds of nails. The cries of pain. The whispers of confusion. The sky turning dark when it should have been day. The Son of God hanging, bleeding, forgiving. Dying.
They remembered.
And so must we.
Good Friday is still good, even when it feels everything but.
It is good not because of what it looked like, but because of what it did. It carried the weight of sin. It carried the voice of Love.
It carried us—through death toward life.
Then came the silence.
Saturday.
No sermon. No miracle. No voice from the clouds.
Just silence. And sorrow. And questions.
Some of us live in Saturdays.
Not quite sure if Sunday is really coming. Not quite sure if hope will return.
But maybe Saturday is where faith breathes the deepest. When we can’t see what’s ahead, but we choose to believe anyway.
Then, Sunday.
Not just another day.
The day.
The stone was moved. The tomb was empty. The silence was broken. And Hope walked out. Alive.
He is not here—He has risen.
So we remember.
Not just to mourn the Cross. But to embrace the One who carried it for us. Not just to sit in the silence of Saturday. But to lean into the mystery of God’s timing. Not just to cheer on Sunday. But to live every day as people of Resurrection.
Let this weekend not be routine.
Let it be a reminder.
Of what He did. Of how He loves. Of why we follow.
Because Friday proves His love. Saturday reminds us to wait.
And Sunday shouts that death doesn’t win.
Pause. Reflect. Remember. Rejoice.
He is alive.
And so are we—because of Him.
Great Word my friend…
This blog is a great reminder of how we must remember and observe each step of the Easter story. It can be so easy to get caught up in the low of suffering and the high of His resurrection that we forget Saturday. I think that Saturdays are where we spend most of our time, in the silence, in the waiting. This blog reminded me that even in the midst of silence that I can have hope in looking to the resurrection that is to come!
This is a great Easter story. I have always wondered what it would be like to be there when all of this happened.
Thank you for this reminder of that Saturday. To be honest, I am not sure if I have truly ever taken the time to sit and ponder that day. I feel as if it is often skipped over. Thank you for reminding me of the importance in the days like that Saturday- the silence, no miracles, no voice, but sorrow, questions, and waiting. I love this line: “Saturday is where faith breathes the deepest.” When we cannot see, but still believe. This is us now. Though we have not seen Jesus, and some days may feel like that Saturday, we still hope. We still believe. We still have faith.
The ending shifts beautifully from history to identity: “He is alive. And so are we—because of Him. ”That transition from “remembering the event” to “living the reality” is transformative. It reminds us Easter isn’t just a celebration of something past, but something active and present in our lives.
The emotions captured in this post are heavy and real. I cannot imagine the pain, confusion, and heartbreak Jesus’s followers must have felt on Friday and Saturday. But, the feeling of finding the tomb empty on Sunday, and being an eye witness to death and sin being defeated cannot compare to the previous feelings. What a blessing that we get to rejoice and experience joy over Jesus’s resurrection.
This blog is beautiful in a sense that it reminds us that He endured these things because He loves and why we follow Him. I loved this reminder!
“It is good not because of what it looked like, but because of what it did.” Man, isn’t that great reminder. In Isaiah, we read that “he has no comeliness” and “no beauty that we should desire him.” It is the same for the cross; it is undesirable and is the opposite of what we perceive to be beautiful, but it is in what it does that we find beauty and desire. Let us not make Jesus and the cross something it is not, but rather let what they truly are make us into something we are not, but what we were meant to be.
This is a great Easter story
Remembering traumatic events not because of the tragedy that occurred but the lessons to be learnt is a seemingly common theme, never more so than here.
This made me realize about all the “silent Saturdays” in my own life, when I’m waiting, wondering, and everything feels quiet. He put words to feelings I didn’t even realize I had. That part where he talks about trusting God even in the in-between… yeah, I needed that.
Why was the great stone door rolled away from Jesus’ sealed tomb?
It makes no sense. Who benefitted from this act? Did Jesus need the door opened? Numerous gospels claim that Jesus had the supernatural power to teleport. If Jesus can teleport into a room with a locked door (the Upper Room) he can teleport out of a room with a sealed door (his rock tomb).
Did the women and the disciples need an empty tomb to believe in Jesus’ resurrection? No, according to the author of Matthew, Jesus appeared to the women in the Garden just minutes later, letting them touch his feet. According to the authors of Luke and John, Jesus appeared to the disciples on the Emmaus Road and in the Upper Room later that same day. Did the Jewish people need an empty tomb to believe in the Resurrection? No, the overwhelming majority of first century Jews did not believe. According to the Gospels themselves, the empty tomb was convincing evidence for only ONE person: the beloved disciple.
So if an empty tomb is not convincing evidence to believe Jesus had risen from the dead, why was the stone door rolled away?
Think about this: If Christians really wanted to prove that their leader had risen from the dead, they would have followed the same script as in the (alleged) raising of Lazarus: Call a large crowd of non-believers. Order someone to break open the sealed tomb in front of that large crowd, and then ask the corpse to emerge. So why didn’t this occur in the case of Jesus?
Answer: Because Christians knew the body was still inside the sealed tomb, or, there was no tomb!
Either way, a rolled away stone door and an empty tomb avoids the embarrassment of Christians watching as the Romans or Jews pried open the sealed tomb to reveal a rotting corpse, or, the embarrassment of admitting they didn’t know what the Romans had done with Jesus’ body (there was no known tomb). The rolling away of the great stone door is proof positive that the Empty Tomb Story is pure fiction!