This post was first published on Saturday, April 19, 2019. The title has been changed.

“For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” ‭‭ Hebrews‬ ‭12:2-3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

It is Saturday of Holy Week. Good Friday has passed. Easter Sunday is yet to come. We wait in anticipation of that joyous celebration. But what did the disciples do on that Saturday after the crucifixion? They did not know that joy awaited them. They observed the Sabbath in obedience, but that day of rest from work was most likely anything but a day of rest in the mind. How could they do anything but continue to relive Friday’s horror and wonder how they would ever face, not only Sunday, but every day after?

It is in human nature to avoid the painful, but what if you and I took this Saturday to relive some of Good Friday’s pain? Might it increase our joy of the resurrection?

Contemplate with me the cruelty before the cross.

How does one describe unimaginable pain? Physical and emotional suffering beyond what any of us has ever experienced?

Emotional pain that triggered physical reactions so intense that bursting vessels caused bloody sweat. Heart beating wildly. Breath coming quickly. Fervent pleading. The disciples sleeping. The Father’s denial. Painful resolve. Deathly obedience. “Your will. Not mine"

The pain of betrayal, abandonment and rejection as Judas led the soldiers and religious leaders to the Garden and kissed his scorned Master. Scattered disciples. Bound by rough-handling soldiers. Rope burns as He was pulled and pushed to the trial of false accusation before the Sanhedrin. The Jewish leaders accused their Messiah of blasphemy, disrespecting the Son of God as they accuse Him of disrespecting God. Slapped. Spit upon. The roaring crowd of accusation and insults assaulting his ears and nerves. Mocked. Blindfolded. Taunted.

The pain of being hated, humiliated and insulted. Sleepless. Dehydrated. Famished. The horrible night ends with a wretched dawn and He is dragged to Pilate by Jewish rulers whose authority is diminished by Roman rule. Only Pilate can execute the order for His execution. Convinced of Jesus' innocence but convicted by his own fear and pride, he suggests mere flogging, the Roman prelude to crucifixion. Unappeased, the Jews demand, “Crucify Him!" Pilate gives in to the jealous Jews' demands for the death of the innocent substitute.

Tied to a post. Stripped of His clothes. Bent in humiliation. The flogging begins. Not a bruising, single-tipped strip, but a multi-tipped, lead-weighted whip shreds His skin. The Roman soldiers striking Him are not bound by the Mosaic limit of 40 lashes. Their limit is their pleasure. They open His body with every lash, exposing what skin should protect. He bleeds and bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. Precious blood. Spilled. Spilling. Sacred. Saving.

Unending agony increases. The crown of thorns mockingly made, thrust in place, affecting nerves through His whole face. Even a breeze would cause Him pain. He bleeds and bleeds and bleeds again. Precious blood. Spilled Spilling. Sacred. Saving.

All this and the cross still to come. How did He endure it with such grace? No caustic words. No shrill defense. No searing looks or hateful sneers. Every part of His body, inside and out, enveloped in pain. His heart broken, betrayed, rejected, denied. How did he brave such continuous torment? Resolved in the Garden. The Father’s purpose superseded His own suffering. Painful resolve. Deathly obedience. “Your will. Not Mine."

On that first Saturday, the early disciples did not yet understand that there was a grand purpose in all His pain. Imagine their joy when they realized that all that suffering had not been a tragic waste. He had not died in vain.

May our Saturday contemplation of Friday’s painful cost lead us to a greater joy when Sunday dawns.

May you celebrate a joy-filled Resurrection Day!