Lenten Devotionals from our DS's wife Robbie Craker

I often try to imagine what that night and day was like for the disciples and followers of Jesus. They had fled the scene – all except a few women. It was a “secret” disciple, who sat on the Council of the Sanhedrin, who took care of the broken and battered body of Jesus – placing it in his tomb.

They were behind locked and closed doors – did they celebrate the Sabbath? They were afraid for their lives. Devastated. Undone. Knocked down. Did they pray? Or were they in such shock they were numb and unable to function normally?

Did the sun come up on Saturday? We know it got dark early on Friday – even the sun hiding its face from the scene. Even creation groaning– earthquakes – tombs opened. Was it a dark day on Saturday?

The rest of the world is going about their routine, but for the disciples and His followers, darkness reigns. Heaven is silent. Everything that they had given their lives to is gone. Defeat.

Did they talk about what He had said to them? Did they remember His words about His death? What are they arguing about now? Are they full of grief for the way they treated one another? Are they full of remorse for not paying closer attention to His teaching?

We’ve all been there in some way haven’t we? It’s the dark night of the soul; when everything seems lost. When it feels like darkness reigns.

Psalm 88 – The Message

God, you're my last chance of the day. I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
take notes on the trouble I'm in.
I've had my fill of trouble;
I'm camped on the edge of hell.
I'm written off as a lost cause,
one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
I'm a black hole in oblivion.
You've dropped me into a bottomless pit,
sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I'm battered senseless by your rage,
relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
made me horrible to them.
I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out,
blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

I call to you, God; all day I call.
I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

I'm standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I've been hurting;
I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
I'm bleeding, black-and-blue.
You've attacked me fiercely from every side,
raining down blows till I'm nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
the only friend I have left is Darkness.