Saturday

Saturday

Early on Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. She ran and found Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved. She said, “They have taken the Lord’s body out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”

Peter and the other disciple started out for the tomb. They were both running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He stooped and looked in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he didn’t go in. Then Simon Peter arrived and went inside. He also noticed the linen wrappings lying there, while the cloth that had covered Jesus’ head was folded up and lying apart from the other wrappings. Then the disciple who had reached the tomb first also went in, and he saw and believed — for until then they still hadn’t understood the Scriptures that said Jesus must rise from the dead. Then they went home. (John 20:1-10)

Let’s talk about grave clothes for a minute. Fun stuff, huh? Hardly. Make a list of depressing subjects, and burial garments would be somewhere between an Internal Revenue Service audit and long-term dental care. No one likes grave clothes. No one discusses grave clothes. For instance, have you ever tried to spice up the conversation at the dinner table with, “So, what are you planning to wear to your funeral?” Probably not. Or, have you ever seen a store specializing in burial garments, like “Clothes to Die For”? Most people don’t talk about grave clothes much.

The apostle John, apparently, was an exception to this rule. Ask him, and he’ll tell you how he came to see burial garments as a symbol of triumph. Mind you, he didn’t always see them that way. A tangible reminder of the death of his best friend, Jesus, they used to seem like a symbol of tragedy. But on that first Easter Sunday, God took the clothing of death and made it a symbol of life. So, could God do the same for you?

We all face tragedy. What’s more, we’ve all received the symbols of tragedy. Yours might be an ID bracelet from the hospital, a scar, or a summons from the Superior Court. For a few at my church, it’s an ash heap that was once called home. We don’t like these symbols, nor do we want these symbols. Like wrecked cars in a junkyard, they clutter up our hearts with memories of bad days. But could God use these things for something good? I mean, how far can we really go with verses like, “In everything God works for the good of those who love him.” (Rom. 8:28)

But does “everything” include tumors and tests and tempers and terminations? John would say, “Yep.” John would tell you that God can turn any tragedy into a triumph, if only you will wait and watch. And, to prove his point, he would tell you about one Friday in particular:

Later, Joseph from Arimathea asked Pilate if he could take the body of Jesus. (Joseph was a secret follower of Jesus, because he was afraid of some of the leaders.) Pilate gave his permission, so Joseph came and took Jesus’ body away. Nicodemus, who earlier had come to Jesus at night, went with Joseph. He brought about seventy-five pounds of myrrh and aloes. These two men took Jesus’ body and wrapped it with the spices in pieces of linen cloth, which is how they bury the dead. (John 19:38–40)

Reluctant during Christ’s life, but courageous at his death, Joseph and Nicodemus came to serve Jesus. They came to bury him. They ascended the hill bearing the burial clothing. Pilate had given his permission. Joseph of Arimathea had given a tomb. Nicodemus had brought the spices and linens. In fact, John states that Nicodemus brought seventy-five pounds of myrrh and aloes. The amount is worth noting, because a quantity like that was typically used only for a king. John also comments on the linens because, to him at least, they were a picture of a Friday tragedy. As long as there were no grave clothes, as long as there was no tomb, as long as there was no coroner, there was hope. But the arrival of the hearse triggered hope’s exit. And to this apostle, the grave clothes symbolized tragedy.

And could there have been a greater tragedy for John than a dead Jesus? Because three years earlier John had turned his back on his career and threw his lot in with the Nazarene carpenter. Earlier in the week John had enjoyed a ticker-tape parade as Jesus and the disciples entered Jerusalem. But how quickly things had turned. The people who had called Jesus king on Sunday were calling for his torture and death the following Friday. These linens were a tangible reminder that his friend and his future were wrapped in cloth and sealed behind a rock.

Of course, John didn’t know on that Friday what you and I know now. He didn’t know that Friday’s tragedy would be Sunday’s triumph. John would later confess that he “did not yet understand from the Scriptures that Jesus must rise from the dead.” (John 20:9) That’s why what he did on Saturday is so important. But the truth is that we don’t know anything about that particular Saturday; we don’t have a verse to read, or even a little bit of knowledge to share. All we know is that when Sunday came, John was there because when Mary Magdalene came looking for him, she found him.

But Jesus was dead. The Master’s body was lifeless. John’s friend and future were buried. But John hadn’t left. Why? Was he waiting for the resurrection? No. As far as he knew, the lips were forever silent and the hands forever still. He wasn’t expecting a Sunday surprise.

Then why was he there, because you’d think he would have left. Who was to say that the men who crucified Christ wouldn’t come after him as well? The crowds were pleased with one crucifixion, so maybe the religious leaders would call for more. So why didn’t John get out of town? Perhaps the answer was pragmatic: maybe he was taking care of Jesus’ mother. Or, perhaps he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Or, maybe he didn’t have any money or energy or direction … or all of the above. Or, maybe he lingered because he loved Jesus.

To some, Jesus was a miracle worker. To others, Jesus was a master teacher. And to the masses, Jesus was the hope of Israel. But to John, he was all of these and much more. To John, Jesus was a friend. And you don’t abandon a friend — even when that friend is dead. John stayed close to Jesus.

He had a habit of doing that, too. For instance, he was close to Jesus in the upper room. He was close to Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. He was at the foot of the cross at the crucifixion, and he was a quick sprint from the tomb at the burial. Did he understand Jesus? No. Was he glad Jesus did what he did? No. But did he leave Jesus? No.

What about you? When you’re in John’s position, what do you do? When it’s Saturday in your life, how do you react? When you are somewhere between yesterday’s tragedy and tomorrow’s triumph, what do you do? Do you leave God, or do you linger near him? John chose to linger. And because he lingered on Saturday, he was around on Sunday to see the miracle.

Mary said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him.” So Peter and the other follower started for the tomb. They were both running, but the other follower ran faster than Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down and looked in and saw the strips of linen cloth lying there, but he did not go in. Then following him, Simon Peter arrived and went into the tomb and saw the strips of linen lying there. He also saw the cloth that had been around Jesus’ head, which was folded up and laid in a different place from the strips of linen. Then the other follower, who had reached the tomb first, also went in. He saw and believed. (John 20:2–8)

As we learn from the narrative, Peter and John were given the news very early on Sunday morning: “Jesus’ body is missing!” And you get the distinct impression that Mary was urgent, both with her announcement and her opinion. She thought Jesus’ enemies had taken his body away. So, being typical guys, the two disciples take off for the hewn-rock sepulcher, John outrunning Peter and arriving first. What he saw, however, so stunned him that he froze at the entrance. But what was so stunning? “Strips of linen cloth,” apparently. He saw “the cloth that had been around Jesus’ head … folded up and laid in a different place from the strips of linen.” He saw “cloth lying.” So?

Well, the original Greek provides some insight. John employs a term that means “rolled up,” or “still in their folds.” In other words, these burial wraps had not been ripped off and thrown on the ground. They were, instead, still in their original state, i.e., the linens were undisturbed. The grave clothes were still rolled and folded. But how could that be? Because if friends had removed the body, wouldn’t they have taken the clothes too? But if enemies had taken the body, wouldn’t they have done the same? And if not, if for some reason friends or enemies had unwrapped the body, would they have been so careful to dispose of the clothing in such a neat and tidy fashion? Not likely. But if neither friend nor foe took the body, who did?

That was John’s question, and that question led to John’s discovery. “He saw and believed.” (John 20:8) Through the rags of death, John saw the power of life. Odd, don’t you think, that God would use something as sad as a burial wrap to change a life? But God’s like that. In his hand a bunch of empty wine jugs at a wedding become a symbol of power; the coin of a widow becomes a symbol of generosity; a crude manger in Bethlehem becomes a symbol of devotion; and a tool of death becomes a symbol of love. So, should we be so surprised that he takes the wrappings of death and makes them the picture of life?

Which takes us back to my question. Could God do something similar in your life? Could he take what today is a token of your tragedy and turn it into a symbol of triumph? Yes, He can. And all you have to do is what John did – don’t leave; hang around and remember the second half of that Romans passage: “God works for the good of those who love him.” (Rom. 8:28) That’s how John felt about Jesus. He loved him. He didn’t understand him or even always agree with him, but he loved him. And because he loved him, he stayed near him.

The Bible says that “in everything God works for the good of those who love him.” But if you’re having a hard time believing his word, try this. Remove the word everything, and replace it with the symbol of your own tragedy. For instance, for John, the verse would read: “In burial clothing God works for the good of those who love him.” So, how would Romans 8:28 read in your life?

In hospital stays God works for the good. In divorce papers God works for the good. In a prison term God works for the good. If God can change John’s life through a tragedy, could he use a tragedy to change your own?

As hard as it may be to believe, you could be only a Saturday away from a resurrection.

Grace,

Randy