I wrote this many years ago and post it every Easter weekend as a reminder. May it speak to you in some small way.
Gray Saturday
by Steve Laube
Holy weekend is such a study in contrasts.
Friday is dark. Somber. Frightening in its hopelessness and pain.
I do not like Dark Fridays.
The nails bury themselves deep into my soul.
They become a singular stake through the heart of this sinner.
Piercing. Rending. Bloody.
Vanquishing this creature of the night who dares to follow his own way.
Christ’s death becomes mine.
The death I deserve.
Alone. Anguishing. Agonizing.
There is no one or nothing that can assuage this dreary weight upon me.
I stand in silence. Staring at the stars and wondering if they can hear my cry or if they care.
Saturday is Gray.
Caught between the darkness and the dawn.
We move around as if yesterday had not happened.
Errands. Busyness. The routine. They conspire to distract from the lessons.
The mundane becomes standard. Bleak. Meaningless. Gray.
Why did Jesus have to wait for the weekend?
Why this middle day of contemplation and forgetfulness?
When night comes we will have survived the gray day.
But only because we know tomorrow is only hours away.
What would it be like if we did not know such hope?
Sunday is Light.
A celebration of life, love, and hope.
It is only because of Sunday that we can face the Fridays of turmoil.
Lift your face toward the dawn.
See the grace that speeds across the hills as the sun licks each place with its touch.
The Son touches your face and the chills of rapture spread to the tips of your toes.
This gives us reason to live.
This gives us reason to love.
This gives us reason to hope.
To live where there is no life.
To love where there is no love.
To hope where there is none to be found.
Unfortunately, we all live in the Saturday Gray.
Forgetting the darkness and depth of our sinfulness.
Forgetting the truth found in the dawn.
Let us be mindful of this during the coming months.
We have been given a choice of days in which we can live.
None of us want to wallow in Dark Friday.
None of us should be satisfied with Gray Saturday.
Instead, let us celebrate and embrace the peace and warmth of the gracious gift of Christ’s resurrection and life.
© 2002 Steve Laube
Dark Friday
Thank you, Steve, for this beautiful and poignant summary of this weekend.
This morning I was thinking about Friday, Saturday, Sunday. We who know the outcome find it difficult to imagine what it must have been like for His followers. Then I thought of the assassination of John Kennedy (He was the hero of young America at the time, regardless of our later maturing viewpoints). It happened on a Friday (actually it was my birthday). On that gray Saturday, stunned and inert, we watched reruns ad infinitum wondering what would happen next. On Sunday, there seemed to be a “resurrection” of sorts when churches were filled to the aisles with people seeking understanding – then the stunning news of Oswald’s death, also on live TV, repeated ad infinitum.
How great that our Resurrection Sunday is real, never to be compromised by the local news at eleven.
Steve, I’m so thankful I had a chance to discuss theology with you and this in particular this past Monday at MH. I’ve read this post before, and I had to re-read in light of our discussion–so good! And I just love the parallel of Gray Saturday to the life many of us currently live between accepting Christ and awaiting Heaven. It’s a challenge. And prophetic in that sense!
Are you giving permission toe copy and paste this beautiful writing. With complete attributions, of course!
Elizabeth,
Yes, you are free to repost.
You ask “ What would it be like if we did not know such hope?“ It would be like how most of the world’s inhabitants live, those who have not bent the knee to Our Lord. In proud, compensatory, angry desperation hidden behind an often smiling, hypocritical face.
Thanks, Steve. Yes. True words.
Thank you for this morning’s reflection.
In this place of getting close but not there yet, I long for Sunday’s victory.
Oh how He loves us!
In Christ,
Patti Wade
This writing helps us understand this weekend is not about Easter ham and the bloom of lilies.
Since you offer a Share button to Facebook, I will pass it along. I feel it should receive wide distribution.
Thank you.
Thank you for posting this.
I think it’s useful to consider what Saturday was like for the disciples. I know I often take Sunday for granted from my post-resurrection perspective.
Life looks far different when we live it in light of the fact that we have been both crucified and raised in Christ. It reminds me of the “put-off, put-on” principle–yes, our old lives have been carried away, but now we must live new ones.
“See the grace that speeds across the hills
as the sun licks each place with its touch.
The Son touches your face and the chills
of rapture spread to the tips of your toes.
This gives us reason to live.
This gives us reason to love.
This gives us reason to hope.
To live where there is no life.
To love where there is no love.
To hope where there is none to be found.”
Apropos for Easter and Poetry Month. This section quivers, shivers with hope.
Lovely.
Thanks, Steve. Great stuff. I posted to my Facebook profile.
This is wonderful, Steve. Thanks.
That’s awesome, Steve. Thanks for sharing this.
Mike
Thank you for sharing that. Beautiful!
What a beautiful way to see this holy week. I’ve never asked myself why the Saturday wait and that question makes me even more aware of His sacrifice and love for us.
Thank you for letting us all peek inside–through our books you always know what’s going on in our heads so this is a great change! I’m not surprised to find just what I thought would be in your heart.
Carla
Thank you, Steve. What insight into our Saturday kind of life.
Thank you, I enjoyed reading this, it was wonderful. Thanks again for sharing it w/ me.
Thanks for sharing this, Steve. It’s a wonderful reminder to carry throughout this week, which began with a lovely Sunday.
All the adjectives already given apply to this piece, Steve. Beautiful writing. Poignant. Wonderful. Thank you for sharing your heart…and your faith. Had I made it to Mount Hermon this year, I would have been in your workshop. Reading this makes it plain what depth and insights I missed and even more sorry I wasn’t there.
Easter makes our hearts sing, but we’re no use if we keep that joyful shout inside. That’s our every-day challenge, isn’t it?
“Lift your face toward the dawn. / See the grace that speeds across the hills as the sun licks each place with its touch. / The Son touches your face and the chills of rapture spread to the tips of your toes.”
Ah, Steve. I’m posting this on my bathroom mirror. I need more of HIM in the morning, in fresh ways, things that wake me up, shake me up, and rouse me from the gray heaviness of an overwhelming to-do list. I need to roll that stone away, roll it over onto Him and walk in risen strength. Give Him my yoke so I can take His. Light. Easy. New with each dawn.
THANK YOU for sharing your heart and your poetry.
Thank you to each and every one who has commented here, posted a note on the Facebook entry, or emailed me privately. It has been humbling to say the least. May God continue to bless you all as we each seek to be conformed to His will, His good and perfect will.
Steve
So powerful.
Thank you for reposting. I’m glad I didn’t miss this.
This bears repeating – and not just on Easter. We probably need the reminder again in August and December as well as April. Beautifully written, by the way. Thank you for posting it again. I missed it previously.
You are truly a gifted poet. I loved the last couple that you shared … very meaningful. Thank you!
Let us remember all three days, but let us not live in the despair of Friday nor the complacency of Saturday, but let us rejoice in the light of Sunday! Beautiful post. Thank you for sharing it.
Beautiful, poetic, and needed. Thank you.
Beautiful! Thanks for sharing!
Thanks Steve for sharing this every year. This is the first Easter weekend I’ve been subscribed to your blog.
My own blog is peering into the Easter time frame. It will be a while before I get to Sabbath, but I agree that it was a time of deep reflection for Jesus’s followers who didn’t know what Sunday’s dawn would bring. Those of us who do know should take the time to refect on the depth of the entire event to everybody.
I’m so glad you repost this. It’s fantastic.
This definitely spoke to me today…thank you so much for sharing with us. SO looking forward to celebrating His Resurrection tomorrow!!! 🙂
Loved your ponderings from the personal struggles out of the death of sin into the resurrected life. You might enjoy my post titled, “Resurrection from the Grand Canyon.” on inkspiring19.com
Absolutely beautiful and so right. We DO live in Gray Saturday. Thank you a timely reminder. I’m going to print this out and keep it next to my desk.
I have so enjoyed both today’s and yesterday’s inspired poems. Thank you for posting them. Happy Easter to you and yours, Steve!
Thank you for sharing this poem, this year and every year. We all need this constant reminder of what these three days really mean to both believers and non-believers.
Beautifully done, Steve. Thank you for sharing this with us again. An inspiration to thought, prayer, and penance.
Steve, very nice. Thank you.
Thank you, Steve. A beautiful reminder of all this weekend means. Thank you for sharing it again.
A beautiful and inspiring post, thank you, Steve. On this Gray Saturday, I often think of Peter, and how he must have felt, all his hopes dashed, the memory of his betrayal fresh in his mind. We all have felt this hopeless despair at times, but for Peter, it must have been crushing. And yet, as has been said so often, without these two bitter days, would the miracle of tomorrow ring so joyously in our hearts? There is no joy to match the unexpected, sudden knowledge of the Truth of Jesus Christ as Lord. I remember well when it first came to me, and the darkness, the grayness cleared away, and all was light.
Amen.
Good!!!
Beautiful and true.
Thank you, Steve, for this thoughtful view of the time that seems to drag between the lowest points and the glorious resurrection of hope.
Elena Corey
Steve, this is beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Exploring the holy weekend in this way is interesting and original. I was particularly struck by, “Christ’s death becomes mine.” This line moves one from merely, if deeply, appreciating His sacrifice, to embracing the agony of His death as our own, even as He embraced our sin as His own. The juxtaposition of ” . . . the darkness and depth of our sinfulness . . . ” with ” . . . the truth found in the dawn . . . ” powerfully expresses the paradox of our existence as believers, and the importance of holding these two concepts in tandem. Thank God for the dawn!
What a profound description of life in this present in-between. Thank you, Steve.
Amen, brother. I felt the same way about yesterday, feel the same way about today. Waiting. Thanks.
Heartfelt reflection. I’m curious — if when you pull out something like this that you’ve written in the past and thought it was good — if you edit or change it.
Ann,
When the content is timeless I do not edit or change. But if it needs updating or refreshing I do make the requisite adjustments.
Thank you, Steve. This touched my heart. What a reflection. This Holy weekend, I am teaching Sunday School on Easter Sunday, and I will share it.
If today is Gray Saturday, it is still a DARK gray. But the dark days do not cover only 3. Jesus Christ was in the heart of the earth for 3 days – AND 3 nights. You cannot get three nights from Friday to Sunday morning. Still, the anticipation of Resurrection Sunday is before us.
Can you imagine how those who loved our Savior back then and watched Him die on that cross felt, until they had the assurance of His resurrection? His mother, John, Peter, the rest of the apostles and followers? What faith the thief had while on the cross when he accepted the salvation offered by a dying Christ. What revelation the centurion had when he said, “…Truly this was the Son of God.” Matt. 27:54
Tomorrow, we celebrate. I’m looking forward to celebrating this glorious day and knowing that someday I’ll rise from the grave myself, if the rapture doesn’t occur first.
Again, thank you for the beautiful words, Steve.
Thanks, Steve, for your beautiful thoughts. You can see a blog post called “Prettying Up the Cross” on http://www.armchairwit.com.
Without analyzing this in depth, I’m nevertheless stuck with its originality and pensiveness. Have never thought about the grayness of Saturday, and it had to be so. But I’d feel more like depressed, glum, gloomy, deflated, weighted and despaired. Your notion of the three day contrasts was excellent. I was tapped by the notion that Jesus’ death became mine. I share the comment about the mystery of how a technical three days would put His resurrection on a Monday. However, I heard that in Jewish culture they count one day from its sunrise to its sunset. With that, the sunrise of the third day qualifies Sunday as the third day. Thank you, Steven, for this compelling offering, very nice.
Beautiful! Thanks Steve.
Thank you, Steve, for sharing your thoughts through poetry and prose. Each writing this weekend has tugged at my spirit, introspection reminding me of how lightly I take the death, burial and resurrection of our Savior. Thank you for words that cause me to dig deeper into my soul, with realization and thanksgiving. Nancy Jo Jenkins
Wonderfully written.
Thank you, Steve. Beautifully written. I was thinking about this yesterday. We celebrate Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and kind of rush through Saturday until Sunday, the Great Resurrection Day, and Exodus 12 from sin.
I do not know if my theology is right on and always open to correction, but we like the disciples fall back into a stunned routine, hopeless, forgetful of the burial which is as significant as Good Friday and Resurrection Day in the light of the OT. Passover on Good Friday, preparation day, is that blood, that awfulness. Saturday is the burial of sin that we as Christians participate in, and of course, Resurrection Day is the ultimate, miraculous victory seen in the flesh.
Your words are a poingnant expression of gospel truth. God be praised!
These are just lovely, Steve. So true–such good reminders. Thanks for sharing.
I will never think about the Saturday before Easter in the same way. Thank you.
What a timely meditation in these days of contracted and compacted grayness. Across the globe people are wading through a morass of numbing monotony mingled with a paralyzing fear of illness, loss, and death… “Forgetting the darkness and depth of our sinfulness. / Forgetting the truth found in the dawn. / Let us be mindful of this during the coming months.”
You have encouraged me to stand in the gray swamp and sing praises to the coming Dawn. May others hear and join the song as the glory of our risen Savior dawns in their hearts with new hope and eternal life!
Very touching poem. Thank you for sharing. I look forward to tomorrow’s Light!!
Thank you, Steve. Thanks be to God for all of these days.
Very nice; your poem fits this weekend perfectly. Several years ago I wrote a poem for Easter Monday about hoping to keep Easter in my heart all year long. This year, we need to do that more than ever.
For the in-between day:
“Low in the grave He lay–Jesus, my Savior. Waiting the coming day–Jesus, my Lord.”
For Resurrection Day:
“Up from the grave He arose . . . And He lives forever with His saints to reign. . . . Hallelujah! Christ arose!”
I hadn’t thought of the “Gray Saturday” perspective. It’s a good place to visit and contemplate the lessons of the dark days. But in the lessons are where we finally see the sun again. Thank you and have a blessed Easter.
Your writing inspired me to meditate on Gray Saturday. Thank you! I put pencil to paper and wrote a few words.
A Gray Day
An agonizing cry splits the skies,
As he hangs his head and dies.
Life lies suspended between
An empty cross
And a sealed tomb.
Doom hovers in a barren land that quakes beneath the weight.
The curtain is rent.
The sun is darkened.
While graves yield their dead.
A sunless day awaits.
Too quickly the bright rays burst,
And birds sing in chorus,
Resurrection songs of morning,
While blood-stained spikes
Lie on the ground,
A remnant of a gray day.
Tina, just…WOW!
Awesome and soul-stirring.
The wide world shrank to single spot,
and simply held its breath,
for Christ was gone, was He not?
How could God find death?
How could He cry out so loud,
that He had been forsaken?
Were they right, the jeering crowd,
were we all mistaken?
Now the only hope was that
He could somehow rise again,
the boxer coming off the mat,
fighting through the pain,
but He was now so cold and still;
how could a corpse this hope fulfill?
Thank you for this meaningful piece, Steve. My mother just passed away – her first Easter in God’s presence – and I find myself bouncing between Dark Friday, Gray Saturday and the Light of Sunday. I know Mom is where she had longed to be for years already, in the presence of her Lord and Savior. But the pain of Dark Friday is still with me, the ‘waiting’ of Gray Saturday. But I know her Lord – and mine – will hold me in the waiting as He brings healing to my heart and spirit.
Steve Laube, I love how you surprised me in this poem. I’ve celebrated dozens of Easters. Every poem I’ve read (and written) attempting to capture the sensations of these terrible, wonderful days ended with the triumph we know is coming. Your concluding challenge to live each day acknowledging and celebrating is right on.
Beautiful!
A sincere and moving piece of literature that paints the picture of our Savior – the Man of Sorrows – but gives us the assurance of eternal life in Him. Thank you Steve for sharing this.
Everything had looked so bright,
hope wove in gold on Heaven’s loom,
but now grey cats stalk through the night,
and Love lies in the tomb.
Was is just a week ago,
the dancing cheering throng?
Could there have been some way to know
that it would go so wrong,
that our Lord would be betrayed
by one of us, His friends,
and then denied (just like He said!)
before His last night ends,
leaving us adrift, forlorn,
wishing we had not been born?
So touching.
Rudderless, each fell away
as dark day became night,
and turned again to Saturday
with its dismal light.
He said that He would rise again,
but that, now long before
the rocks were coloured with blood’s stain,
and the stony cold tomb-door.
The Voice they loved was fading fast
from each memory;
“I want to hold on to the last
thing He said to me,
not walk alone in this malaise
through unnumbered lonely days!”
Saturday is Gray.
Caught between the darkness and the dawn.
We move around as if yesterday had not happened.
These lines hit my heart, Steve. 🙁
Lord, help me remember, as I move around today, that yesterday was sharply real. For which I’m so thankful!
Beautifully captures the turmoil of these 3 days. The horror at what Jesus went through for us on the cross, and the unspeakable gratitude that He paved the way for us.
I think about the times we are living in now–they have been heavy and oppressive and everyone is feeling the weight of them–even though we have our Lord who will attain victory over all. But how terrible for the disciples as well those 3 days. A heaviness and sorrow we can only begin to imagine—not fully understanding the purpose of it all. And literally having to watch Him suffer and die.
So thankful for His great love and mercy that knows no bounds..
Beautifully said. Like you, I find Friday difficult to ponder on. I know it happened, but I don’t want to dwell on its happening. Jesus died for us sinners and I look around at the evil world crumbling and I wonder if we deserved such a sacrifice. But resurrection Sunday comes and I’m able to smile with hope, faith and love.
Thank you, Steve.
“Thank you, Jesus. If it is true that you would have died for me alone, then it is also true that my sin stopped your lungs from breathing and stopped your heart from beating. Thank you for your saving grace and your daily mercies.”
“we all live in the Saturday gray…” Wow. Such truth and wisdom. A reminder of our calling to live in the Son’s light.
I’ve never contemplated the gray Saturday with the depth and emotion of this piece. It is moving, challenging, and inspiring. Beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Steve. Happy Resurrection Day to your and your staff.
Thanks for this, Steve. It is beautiful. I’m not usually inspired by poetry. Nicely done. I do think about Gray Saturday often. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for the disciples. All their efforts, all their sacrifices, it all came to a screeching halt. Life must have felt over for them. They got to live through Gray Saturday. The disciples must have wondered, “Now what do I do?” Catastrophes large and small happen in our lives. As you say, we live constantly in a Gray Saturday. Jesus’ death for us was a horrible event, but he knew resurrection was coming. We can do the same. Whatever happens, we will have a final Easter. Brokenness and sorrow gone because Jesus made the way for his followers to have a resurrection. Perhaps not in this life, but we can have a firm hope. Jesus has not left us a Gray Saturday with nothing beyond it.
Thank you for reposting this.
Thank you, Steve. So much to contemplate on gray Saturday.
Steve–thank you for your profound and insightful poetic message. I definitely look forward to Easter Sunday and needed the reminder to live each day in love and faith.
steveS
Your poem spoke to my heart, my love for Jesus, and my awe for the Father being willing to send His son for my sins. Thank you for posting this, we all need the insight you gave us.
The day beyond the day that was,
with no light left to borrow,
when despair opened its jaws
to devour each tomorrow.
The day without His gentle smile,
the day we had to run and scatter,
the day beyond that fatal trial,
and what now can ever matter
past the time when He was here,
past the time He gave us hope,
past the time He held us dear,
past the end of Judas’ rope,
where even the traitor learned
that no grace is ever earned.
Blessed by that meditation, Steve!! (And Andrew, your responses!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Caught in this vale of deathly gloom
Gray neverland of soon and before…
We rest in Him
until we see
Heaven’s hammer-opened door.
But now, our sabbath of the soul,
a tearful vigil at the tomb.
We rest in faith still, not in sight.
We trust in Him
until we see
Our Daystar’s quick’ning light.
Karen, two words.
Tee riffic.
I will be reading this at Easter dinner this year in place of my usual attempts to tell all who come how amazing our Lord and Savior is. Praise Jesus. 👏
Brilliant Steve! What a blessing and inspiration! My question is Why aren’t you writing instead of representing writers>
“As those who have no hope” experience Easter—it’s difficult to ignore—one famous singer told her fans to “look within” for the strength to go on . The quote of the day on a site I get. Look within?!?! The blind leading the blind. “Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our FAITH”…
Another couple thoughts after rereading all the responses. Steve, you surely challenged us. Andrew, strong verse. Simon Peter, you’d be a royal mess the rest of your life if it hadn’t been for Easter morning and that walk by the shore of Galiliee after breakfast with the Lord.
What a beautiful reminder of our hope this Easter weekend. Thank you, Jesus! And thank you Steve.
Happy Resurrection Day, everyone!
Love this! Thank you.
Thank you, Steve. A timeless poem describing a timeless message.
Sunday’s coming!! (Can we make an exception for two apostrophe’s for Easter? :))