Saturday: Black Sabbath
”And when Jesus had cried out with a loud voice, He said, ‘Father, ‘into Your hands I commit My spirit.’ Having said this, He breathed His last.“ Luke 23:46
What day could be darker than the Sabbath on which the Son of God lay in death, murdered at the hands of wicked servants who saw only gain for themselves in His death. Annas, Caiaphas, Judas, the temple priests, the elders, the Pharasees, Herod, Pilate, and Satan himself; all who had placed a representative hand on the sacrifice now tried to wash away the blood of their guilt. They spent a nervous day wondering if His prophesy would be fulfilled. Wondering if He would rise, as He said He would. Worrying that He might walk out of the tomb, as Lazarus had. But the day passed and that night they lay in their beds confident that they had won. Confident that His body lay still and quiet, rotting in the tomb. All of them, that is, except Satan, for he was the only one who discerned the celebration in Sheol. He was the only one among them who sensed the assault on the gates of Hell. And when the gates fell his confidence was shattered by the shouts of joy that rose from all those souls that had gone before. He alone understood what it all meant. His greatest ally, Death, had been defeated and now, though the battle raged, the war was already lost, or won, for those who have the wisdom to surrender.