Tis Saturday, the day between Good Friday and Easter. If I had been a disciple of Jesus in that time, this would be perhaps the most difficult day of my life. I had given up everything to follow this man. Now he was dead. What did that mean for me? Would others pity me, would I be a laughing stock, would I forever be an outcast in the religious community – an even greater outcast than I was before I knew him.
Why did he have to die? And why such a death as crucifixion? A criminal’s death. What does that make me? An accessory to his crime? Or maybe a victim of his crime.
I gave up everything to follow him. Well, everything except my ability to breath and live a somewhat comfortable life. He gave that up. He could have had it all. He could have had multitudes following him. He could have had the place of a king! Wealth, power, all the pleasures of this world. Was that I was hoping to find in him?
He chose death. Death on a cross. Did he expect me to follow him in his death? Am I also to give up my physical life?
What was so bad about the animal sacrifices the priests had made for years? God accepted them, right? Oh, no. No, no, no. As a follows of Christ are we to give an annual sacrifice of ourselves – of human life?
Would Jesus ask me to also choose death?
Today is the Sabbath. I will rest as I mourn for this man whom I considered to be a great teacher. He called me friend. No one else has ever accepted me the way he did. What have I learned from him over the past three years? What will I do with what I’ve learned?