That Saturday...

      From the time he was arrested to the time they saw Him standing there again, it was pure terror. Most of them were hiding in the house for fear of being arrested, but also because they themselves were the only other people they could turn to. There were a little over a hundred of them that made it back and stayed there from the Thursday night to the Sunday morning. They didn't see John, Mary His mother, Mary Magdalene, or a few others until just close to sundown on that Friday. Thomas had disappeared completely, as had a few others. They only heard bits and pieces of the details of what was happening when it was happening which were relayed back to them through mostly children who were able to pass through the crowds without fear of arrest. No one in the crowds paid any attention to them as they came and went.
     It is hard to adequately express what they were going through that Saturday. The men, the women, and the children who were behind the walls of the house. There was fear in abundance, there was shame, there was guilt, and there was a deep, deep depression and despair which was evident in their expressions and in their eyes.
     They all knew what He had taught them, and He had lived what He taught when the soldiers came for him. He didn't return evil for evil, just as He taught. When Peter tried to use a sword to defend Him, He put a stop to it and mended the damage done. From what they had been told, even on the cross, He forgave those murdering Him. "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who hunt you, and pray for those who abuse you." This is what He taught, and this is what He did even as He was bleeding out and suffocating. It was a powerful final lesson for them, and it weighed on each one of them, especially John who had been there to see and hear everything. His eyes were haunted and his entire disposition traumatized by what he experienced in the death of his best friend and son of his mother's sister. Each one of them had to keep living, but that Saturday they just didn't know how. None of them.
     The crucifixion happened. It happened to real people in real history. It affected and traumatized real people who had even been told it was going to happen, but were still in shock when it did. In the same way, the resurrection happened, and so many people saw Him raised from the dead that it almost became the first century "Elvis sightings" phenomenon in the Eastern Mediterranean. Kayafa and Khannah had to work hard to suppress the truth of what too many people had seen with their own eyes. Jesus wasn't selective about who saw Him risen. He didn't hide it and had no intentions to. The lies and slander they spread about Him even made its way into the Talmud as they sent out agents to stop those who saw Him alive from saying anything further. One such agent had been Saul of Tarsus... that is, until he saw Him too.
     There is so much evidence, circumstantial and even direct, of both the crucifixion and resurrection that it's honestly ridiculous and absurd when people call it or even Him a myth and doubt His existence at all. Usually the reasons have nothing to do with evidence, but because they are angry, and often rightly so, with those who claim to represent Him and the religion that came to be.
      But He was very real. He was like everyone's favorite brother, and when He talked to you, you felt like the only one there. You could tell Him anything, and He would understand. He Himself wasn't always in the best of health, but He healed everyone who came to Him. He owned nothing, yet the whole world lent itself to His use. He Himself couldn't read or write, yet His knowledge and wisdom were absolute. There wasn't a person who came into His view that He did not care about, and you could tell. There wasn't a person with whom He interacted that He did not love, even those who tried to trap Him, even those who were murdering Him. When He rebuked, you could hear the pleading for those He was rebuking in His voice. When He became angry with someone, it was as an older brother angry at their younger sibling for doing something that could hurt themselves or others. It was always corrective, but never vengeful.
     April 4th, 0033CE was a hard, hard day for those in that house. Some could barely process what was happening. For others, the shock of His loss so overtook them they didn't notice when the sun rose or set. They wouldn't again until throughout the day of April 5th.