Inbetween

Our Saturday is different.

Ours sits

between a Friday called "Good"

and

a Sunday called "Resurrection".

but they had lost

everything.

their teacher

their friend

their hopes for Israel

their hopes for their souls

hopes bound up in Jesus.

now

betrayed

bound

beaten

and

crucified.

their (can't be) Messiah

DEAD .

hope crucified.

and yet

underneath all rational thought

a small soul-seed of hope

undetected

but stirring and sprouting,

pushes through

layers of despair

defying even the laws of nature.

in their hearts,

the faintest longing

hope.

But we,

we know the whole story.

we think we know the whole story.

Sunday comes,

He rises.

we rejoice.

yet, underneath seasonal rejoicing

there is something else we know

there are places in our lives

our families' lives

our friends' lives

where Sunday has not come

where Sunday just is not coming

where Sunday will never come

how can it?

the darkness is too great

the despair too heavy

this Saturday (and every Saturday) as we wait...

maybe in us too...

underneath all rational thought

a small soul-seed of hope

undetected

but stirring and sprouting,

pushes through

layers of despair

defying even the laws of nature.

in our (!) hearts,

the faintest longing

hope

contributed by Aimee