Here’s a poem for Black Saturday, perhaps the saddest day of the disciples’ lives. I hope you’ll sit with it.
Perhaps this is the saddest day
in the disciples’ lives
the day after tragedy
when trauma haunts the mind.
sit.
don’t rush past this day, as if
God only ordained Sunday
and not the despair before it.
sit
with terrified disciples
in their despondence
sit.
let God teach you lament
free you from faux comfort
the theology of Job’s friends.
sit.
let the Sabbath rest of Jesus in tomb
remind you he rested
because “it is finished.”
let today confront the ways
you assume God moves
to bless his beloved.
sit.
‘til your soul’s
ripe to taste
the sweetness of Sunday.
