Do you remember what the worst day of your life felt like? I do. I felt like I would never sleep again. I felt humiliated and shamed. The world looked gray, as if a sheet had been dropped over my vision. My whole body felt sick and without health. I felt as if my soul was exposed and everyone could see how foolish I had been. My joy and hope were gone–shattered, crushed underfoot.

That’s what I think the disciples felt on the Saturday before Easter Sunday. Can you imagine how long that day lasted? They didn’t know when the horror would be over. Their hopes had been snuffed out. They were confused. They were in shame. I’m sure Peter just wanted to say he was sorry, but now it was too late. Grief, fear, and an aching hollowness were their closest companions.

Jesus had promised hope. Where was that hope now? It was there, they had just forgotten His words. He promised that Friday–the day of His death–was not the end. We honor Jesus’s death, but we celebrate Him coming back to life. God didn’t leave Jesus dead, and neither will He leave you in a place of deadness.

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