So the Saturday before Easter, the Sabbath between Jesus' death and resurrection, is one of the most fascinating periods in the Bible to me. I wonder each year what Jesus' disciples experienced. Scattered, afraid, sad. Peter denied him. Judas committed suicide. John was no doubt taking care of Mary. But there were others: the rest of the twelve, the band of companions who had seen to the physical needs of the group, including women who saw Jesus crucified and made plans to go to His tomb on Sunday. What did they all thing? How did they cope? Did they just sleep? Were they self-centered, worried Judas would betray them next? Did they think? Did they think they'd been wrong, that Jesus wasn't Messiah after all? Did they remember what He said about dying and rising again? Did they believe still that Jesus was the Messiah, but had been defeated?
The last question is part of the subject of a little story I wrote several years ago, and which I published on When the Pen Flows in July: Nathanael's Dark Night.
To God be all glory.
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