The next day, the one after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees went to Pilate. “Sir,” they said, “we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first.” Matt. 27:62-64
Dear Lord Jesus, as Good Friday gave way to silent Saturday, the range of emotions following your crucifixion was as broad and deep as the Grand Canyon. I can only imagine the degree of shock and sadness which gripped the hearts of your disciples, your family, and your friends. And yet there were also those who were filled with glee and relief that you, “the deceiver,” could no longer threaten their existence, challenge their “piety” or disrupt the status quo.
As the sun rose on Saturday, no one could have possibly understood that the most undeserved death imaginable would yield the greatest return calculable. As you were nailed to the cross, our debt to the written code—God’s law, with all its regulations and requirements, was cancelled—once and for all, losing all its condemning power over us (Col. 2:14). O, blessed and irrepressible freedom!
As you drew your last breath before jeers and sneers, you were actually crushing the head of the serpent, disarming the powers of darkness, triumphing over all authorities marshaled against the reign of God, putting them to shame (Col. 2:15). O, powerful and triumphant cross!
No one yet grasped that your mortal punishment would bring our eternal peace; that your fatal wounding would secure our everlasting healing; and that your being crushed would lead to our being cherished by the thrice holy God (Isa. 53). Though they had the Scriptures, they had no clue. O, hidden and glorious mystery!
And yet the chief priests and the Pharisees did remember your promise of resurrection. They weren’t sad about your death; they were mad with fear about the possibility of your life. Having already plotted to put to death a resurrected Lazarus, they weren’t about to indulge a resurrected rabbi.
O, foolish, silly, sinful men—they could sooner hold back the rising of the morning sun than the rising of the Son of God. Resurrection Sunday was coming, and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it. The silence of Saturday would soon be shattered with the shouts of Sunday: “The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed!” Weeping would give way to running; sadness would be overtaken by gladness; the scattered would be re-gathered; deniers would become delighters; fear would sent packing by faith. “The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed!”
Most glorious Lord Jesus, everything happened just as you said it would. It’s just so much more glorious than we could have ever hoped or imagined. As we prepare to celebrate your resurrection tomorrow, may it prove to be preparation to live the rest of our lives, more fully, to the praise of your glory and grace. So very Amen we pray, in your merciful and matchless name.
