It's Saturday. It would have been the Sabbath for Jesus' disciples, the day set aside for rest. The day that God's people are supposed to rest, a gift to them, and a reminder that God is their salvation; that they can't work to make themselves right or to earn their way into God's favor.

Yet, Jesus' friends and followers and family were supposed to figure out how to rest and grieve at the same time. They were supposed to rest in God, and also deal with the feeling that all was lost. It was a horrible, senseless waste. They must have assumed it was over, kaput, fini. For them, it seemed to be an ending. It was finished.

We, however, have the advantage of knowing that Sunday was a' comin'. We can read the double-meaning into "finished." We know that Saturday was simply a pause, a waiting; not an ending but a completion and beginning.

We really can rest right now, knowing that the Sabbath is still a reminder to us today that we are supposed to rest in God and trust that He is our salvation. Jesus Himself fulfilled the Sabbath-rest in ways we can only barely grasp. If we embrace Him, even not fully comprehending it all, we have true rest.

In this pause, in the wait before Easter morning, I'm trying to remember all of that.