When Saturday Feels Long
British Museum, London 2014
The following is a blog post I wrote nine years ago at the age of twenty-one. At the time I was in the middle of my high school ministry years, spending hours each week devoted to volunteering at church and taking my role as spiritual mentor very (too?) seriously. I was also working full time and putting myself through college.
The time since this was written has brought forth many changes in my faith and faith expression and I think it is the same for those around my age who grew up the way I grew up in Christianity. You can’t make it through your twenties in the 2020s and not experience some form of faith deconstruction.
I reread this blog post, however, and I see a tender connection to that version of myself and my faith. Nine years later I’m still sitting at the entrance of the tomb waiting with even more questions than I have answers… but I’m still here, and I have a little more peace and a little more patience than I did then.
The quote at the end by Dorothy L. Sayers I added now, the rest, however, is directly taken from what I wrote in 2016.
He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting there opposite the tomb.
Matthew 27:60-61
I think the majority of one’s life is spent in the same way. Sitting opposite the tomb. Staring at the stone that extinguished all hope of resurrection. Waiting for a miracle, not even half believing one could happen. How long did these two women sit there? The Bible does not say. Too long.
Jesus went on to say, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me.’
John 16:16
The truth is, this Saturday feels too long. “Jesus come! Why did you let this happen? Why did you not come back to us yet?” Dangerous questions. Questions I wonder if these Marys were asking. Why did He let them kill Him? This Teacher who raised Lazarus from the dead before their very eyes, who boldly defied death, why did He silently and willingly accept His own brutal annihilation? We know the answer. We know what Sunday held. We know the end of this story.
But these Marys did not.
‘Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.’
John 16:20
And so they sat, across from His tomb. They did not yet know the answers to their questions. They did not yet know the victory waiting in the morning. They did not yet know that they were mere hours away from seeing the face of the One they longed for the most, the face they thought they would never see again. When all tangible hope was gone, these women still sat as close to their Savior as they could.
‘Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. ‘
John 16:22
And so shall we. When Friday nights never end, and Saturdays feel too long. We shall sit as close to Him as we can, even when a stone fills the space between us. We shall sit, and wait, knowing questions will be answered, hope will be restored and victory will be won. Knowing someday, though not today, we will see His face again.
‘I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.’
John 16:33
Excerpt from Are Women Human? by Dorothy L. Sayers…
Perhaps it is no wonder that women were first at the Cradle and last at the Cross. They had never known a man like this Man – there never has been such another. A prophet and teacher who never nagged at them, never flattered or coaxed or patronised; who never made arch jokes about them, never treated them either as “The women, God help us!” or “The ladies, God bless them!”; who rebuked without querulousness and praised without condescension; who took their questions and arguments seriously; who never mapped out their sphere for them, never urged them to be feminine or jeered at them for being female; who had no axe to grind and no uneasy male dignity to defend; who took them as he found them and was completely unself-conscious. There is no act, no sermon, no parable in the whole gospel that borrows its pungency from female perversity; no one could possibly guess from the words and deeds of Jesus that there was anything “funny” about women’s nature.
But we might easily deduce it from His contemporaries, and from His prophets before Him, and from His church to this day. Women are not human; nobody shall persuade that they are human; let them say what they like, we will not believe it, though One rose from the dead.
