Observation

These women who had spent the past few years literally following Jesus … traveling with him, learning from Him, serving Him … can you imagine?

They lived the last week of His life trying to keep up with all the ups and down, twists and turns … faced with the full gamut of emotions, processing their faith in real time amid the mystery and the urgency.

They had watched in horror for hours as Jesus was beaten and mocked and crucified. Their wringing hands numb in the heart-racing buzz of fight or flight …

Surrounded in the unexplainable darkness by a dreadful surge of screaming … bellowed commands, wails of soul-level sadness, and the hiss of deranged heckling …

With every sobbing gasp, they breathed in the stench of destruction and tasted their own tears.

All of their senses overwhelmed with fear and sorrow.

And what happens next? What on earth can they do? What must they do?

Rest.

They go home and rest.

A required rhythm of Sabbath, established centuries before, is a perplexing provision of peace.

Present peace.

Ushered in by quiet obedience.

Silently sending a cease and desist to the world.

Space.

To be filled with wholeness and surrender.

For the holy purpose of revival and faith enough to re-engage to see the story through.

Luke 23:56

This solitary verse in the Gospels that documents the day between Christ's death and resurrection speaks volumes to my sometimes anxious, fearful, hurried heart.

Lord, let us listen and live.