Hopeless to Holy

 Brian Roemmele on X: "It takes just a single candle to push back the darkness in a room. Yet you can put as much darkness in a room as you like and

I wonder how the disciples were feeling on this day thousands of years ago. Their teacher, confidant, closet friend, the one they left everything for, had just died the most brutal death imaginable. I cannot fathom the weightiness of today. On a seemingly silent Saturday. 

I imagine they felt fear. Fear that they would be next, that if they did not hide, the Romans would do the same to them as they had to Jesus. I am sure that they were terrified. Flinching at the sound of every passing movement. Wondering if they would be found or killed. Probably too afraid to light a single light in the room. Sitting in the quiet stillness. Fear leaving them frozen in place. 

I imagine they were also disappointed, confused, angry, utterly sad, and at a loss for words. This had been the man they thought would save them. Who would come in and overthrow the Romans, so that the Jews would be free from their reign. Now, he was dead. The one they had shared countless meals with, walked hundreds of miles with. Witness unexplainable miracles occur at the sound of his voice or the touch of his hand. And yet he was dead. They probably played their past interactions with him out in their minds. 

What had he said? Hadn't he told them he would die? And that he would rise again? But that was impossible. What could that even mean? 

Their minds probably swirled with questions and raced with fears. Their minds were anything but silent that Saturday. 

I imagine mostly, that they felt the deep weightiness of hopelessness.

Today, I remember the times that I have felt that weightiness. Like all hope was lost. Crippled by my fears, frozen in time. Like every step is too much to manage. Every choice or thought too much to handle. The times that I could not get out of bed or take a shower, or cook a meal. I have felt the weightiness of hopelessness, if only in a fraction of the disciples' pain. 

But, today I also remember the hope of tomorrow. That Saturday was not the end of the story. The dark would not last forever. The disciples did not know this, or at least they did not truly know. On that day thousands of years ago, it felt like all hope was lost. 

But for me, for us, it was just the beginning. Thanks be to God! 

Hopeless becomes Holy when it is marked by the presence of God. 

So whether you have experienced the hope for yourself and your situation, or if your silent Saturday has actually spanned a much longer season than that. There is hope. There is a light, a light that illuminates all of our darkness. A piece of heaven that came to earth in love, the holy Son of God, who came to take on every piece of our pain, our guilt, and our shame. And He conquered! Your Sunday is coming! 

Hope is here! 

Today, it is okay to sit and reflect on those times of hopelessness. When it seems like redemption is the farthest thing from possible. Yet, we do not have to stay there. We do not have to live our lives in the dark. 

Christ died so that we could experience life to the fullest! Christ came so we could have life and have it abundantly. But, He also knows the pain that you feel, the hurt that has been caused. And He dwells with you there also. For as much time as you need, He will sit with you in it. Because He is not only a God who sees, but a God who loves. 

Our hopelessness can be transformed into holiness when it is touched by the presence of God. 

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