3:59AM. That’s the time that I heard retching, then licking coming from the dog bed next to my side of the bed. I hoped I dreamed it. But a few minutes later, I was armed with Woolite pet-mess cleaner and a roll of paper towels. The only thing left once I got back upstairs was a strangely-organized pile of small sticks and stones that Moses must have eaten the day before.
The Proverb says the dog returns to his own vomit, and we return to our own sin. Sometimes it’s not our own sin we return to, but our distractions from the truth. Today, Holy Saturday, the disciples decided they’d go fishing (in a couple days, of course; not on the Sabbath). This wasn’t just a relaxing trip to get their minds off three years of a failed career change. It was a deliberate return to their old career. The Messiah thing didn’t work out. Let’s head back to the boats.
I bet the disciples, whether or not they had vomiting dogs next to their beds, were probably awake at 3:59AM during the night between Good Friday and Holy Saturday. I bet they barely slept at all. They probably missed worship the next morning, though that would have had more to do with fear of getting killed than being too tired. I usually skip because I’m too tired.
Most of life is Holy Saturday, despite the fact that for us, Sunday has come. We all know resurrection is here, and we’re supposed to live in its victorious power every moment. Or at least that’s what the zealous pastors and Christian self-help books tell us. But I think the majority of our lived experiences, if we’re being honest, feels a whole lot more like Holy Saturday. Resurrection came to the middle of history 2,000 years ago, but we’re still all groaning for its final realization across the entire universe – and in our own bones, which get woken in the middle of the night by dog vomit, cancer, lost loved ones, war, and sin.
Indeed, if Christ were not raised, we would of all people be most pitied. Instead of going on under a delusion that all is well with the world (lots of evangelicals share this delusion, by the way), we’d experience our life-long Holy Saturday with no future Sunday. All the glimpses we think we see of it would be creations of our own minds, and we’d live miserable lives and die.
Holy Saturday is the bridge between death and life. Being already-but-not-yet resurrected fallen people, Holy Saturday is where we live.
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Interesting thoughts. I agree that “we’re all still groaning for its final realization.” Isn’t it Eustace in _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ who makes the comment, “The Cure has begun.” ?
Our family went to the beach last night to watch a spectacular sunset and I couldn’t help but think of those disciples on Good Friday evening, not taking taking joy in anything. I had a strange sense of enjoying the beauty of God’s creation, but with a little guilty sense that Good Friday is a day to mourn and identify only with Christ’s sadness and grief. But like you said, we know Sunday has come. We live in that tension – screwed up world, but with the knowledge that Jesus is making all things new.
By the way, last year Piper (our dog) for some reason decided to eat a huge quantity of dirt and gravel in our back yard. He was miserable, and a trip to the vet confirmed by x-ray his egregious lack of good sense. But he’s a big guy, and he managed to get it all through. Dogs.
(If you want to see a fun video of him, check out http://vimeo.com/4071586
Very good.