THE SCENE
The gruesome nature of yesterday now in the rearview mirror, morning dawns on the day of greatest confusion for all those who knew Jesus. Consider what has transpired: your Master has been mercilessly, falsely, ridiculously, and savagely beaten and murdered on a cross next to two other criminals. The sky went dark in the middle of the day. An earthquake occurred (after the resurrection previously dead saints emerge from tombs and walk around Jerusalem to be seen by witnesses). Jesus is buried in a rich man's borrowed tomb (thats just pregnant with meaning)! Those conniving religious leaders are so complete in their hatred of Jesus that Pilate is convinced to place soldiers at the tomb in order to protect from what they say may be a bait and switch. You know, the high school kid who sneaks out his window and places two pillows under a blanket and wig on the pillow to fool his parents - apparently the grieving and entirely bewildered disciples were plotting such a heist. And finally, the curtain was torn in two.
The Curtain.
The one that separates the Holy Place from the MOST HOLY PLACE. The very presence of God now appeared to be accessible for someone other than the high priest once a year when he made an offering for sin (see Leviticus 16 when God established this).
Wait a minute! Once a year a high priest goes in to this highly regarded room and makes an offering of blood to atone for sin. It really was true that since the early days of this people (the Jews) that the payment for sin was death. Even an animal had to die, a perfect animal at that.
But now a man dies and access to that room where the presence of God is said to be is open? What in the world could this all mean? I seem to recall the Centurion blurting out something as Jesus died, “Truly this was the Son of God!” (Matt. 27:54). Was He?
Nicodemus, at one point joined in heart with the movement that murdered Jesus (but secretly sought answers from Him ended up defending {John 7:50-51} and finally burying him{John 19:39}), is lying in bed as the sun rises. Just a few short hours before he showed up with the wealthy disciple and about 75 lbs. of spices to bury Jesus. For a man who was a closet convert the amount of spices he brings to the tomb are symbolic. In fact, it is enough to bury a King royally.
Seriously? The man who was so scared to be associated with Jesus is now making a declarative statement as he lays Him to rest. "He is MY KING! I don't care who knows and what I sacrifice as a result of this relationship. I want Him more than my standing as a Pharisee in this town."
I cannot help but wonder, on this day as the original audience was in a holy hush, what thoughts wandered the treacherous and cavernous depths of their hearts. Some sequestered in their homes for fear, others laboring over the grief produced by the atrocity experienced, and finally those staring listlessly into space; all potentially thinking the same thing, "Our hope has been snuffed out like a candle on a windy evening. The light we once followed after has been enveloped by the tomb..."
Is your life so hopeless and helpless that you feel as though light (Hope) has been lost? What anchors your soul to the despair, fear and doubt so many on THIS day in history have experienced? Friday was gruesome, Saturday was silent, BUT... In faith Nicodemus buried a King in a borrowed grave! This is simply too significant to miss... Please don't miss it!
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