It’s Saturday

It’s Saturday and hope is gone

Or so it seems

The promise of our deliverance

Is gone from off the scene.

Sentenced by the Jews

But crucified by the Romans

We are left at their behest

And their whimsical summons.

It was good while it lasts

His words, his miracles, his signs

Seemingly impregnable yet vulnerable

To his destiny he had resigned.

We had thought he was the one

But how mistaken we were

Crucified, dead and buried

All our hopes with him interred.

It’s Saturday; all hope is gone

His tomb has been sealed tight

No way it can be opened

Not even if we use all our might.

And what would be the use?

He is not alive; he is dead

And all that remains since yesterday

Is a monument where lies his head.

Galilee’s waters beckon

The boats on its banks call out to us

Well, back to the daily grind

That we left in order to follow Jesus

The women are huddled in a group

Too overcome with grief to speak

The men remember the fishing boats

Thinking of Zebedee’s fishing fleet.

What more can they do?

Their champion has been dethroned

Their hope lies in yonder tomb

They are still under the yoke of Rome.

  

It is business as usual

We are faced with the old routine

We thought that it was gone forever

But now it’s back to the familiar scene.

No Jesus to brighten up our day

No Jesus to lead us in the way

No miracles, no searching for the stray

“It’s Saturday,” is all that we can say.

This Sabbath is a stark reminder

Of a promise made but not delivered

Rome is still large and in charge

Having defeated our deliverer.

It’s Saturday, I remind you

The crowds have long gone home

The crucifixion indelibly on their mind

And Caesar is still on His throne.

Stewart Russell © April 2017