Saturday Sorrows

A young man is sitting in a garden. He is afraid and frequently looks around to see if he’s been followed. He is also upset, exhausted, and despondent. The dirt on the ground has been trampled as if a large group of people had recently gathered there. One spot is matted with dried blood.

“Oh Lord! Why Lord, Why?

The questions are swirling around in my head like the wind whipped around us yesterday on that skull-shaped rock. You once calmed the violent storms with your voice. Now I need you here to calm the tempest in my mind. Please!

How could you let this happen? You confounded the religious leaders with your rhetoric and logic. And then you go mute in face of all their accusations?

You healed the crippled and the lame. And then you allow yourself to be tortured to the point where you could barely walk? It was gruesome, it was evil, and it was unbearable to even watch.

You gave life to all who came in contact with you. And then you let them kill you? Why?

I stayed to the end, though. You do know that? I was there, you saw me. You looked down at me, and you spoke. I heard your last words. They still echo in my mind.

I haven’t slept since you were taken from us. When you asked me to stay awake with you. Oh how I failed you. I’m so sorry. Everybody scattered like seeds on a path. We all deserted you when you needed us most. My soul aches, as if it were pierced with one of those hideous Roman nails.

I haven’t eaten since we last dined together, when you washed my feet, and when you predicted this would happen. I can’t keep the tears away. And I feel so alone.

Where are you, Lord? I’ve been trying to find you. At first light, I started scurrying all over town like a child in some silly game. You said “in a little while” we’d see you again. When?

First, I went down to the river. Maybe you’d be there. Starting over. Clean, fresh, anew. The Resurrection and the Life emerging from a watery grave. Ready to do this kingdom thing all over again. But no. All I saw were a few sheep and some children playing.

Then I searched all over the city for you. I went back to the upper room. I flung open the door, expecting to see you reclining at the table, waiting for me.

The room was empty.

I thought about going up to Galilee, to the lake. But it’s too far on the Sabbath. I’ll go up there tomorrow. It’s where we first met, where you changed the course of my life. I want to throw myself into the water, so the waves will wash away my hopelessness. I want to set out in a small boat, drop anchor in the middle of the lake, and scream out to you as loudly as possible. But would you even hear me? Maybe, just maybe you’d appear there. Coming to me on the water once again. You’d tell me to not be afraid anymore.

I’m still terrified.

If you’re not there in Galilee, the only other place where I can look is up on the mountain. That’s why you took Peter, James, and I up there? To show us where you’d come back? So I’d know where to go? Of course that’s where you’ll be. Your face will be shining like the sun and your clothes will be white as light. Perhaps you’re visiting with Moses and Elijah one more time?

For now, I’m here, back in the garden. Surely, I thought, you’d be here, praying, awaiting the arrival of your friends. I pictured you sleeping, peacefully. It’d be my turn to wake you. But, no, again, you aren’t here!

Why now? Can you just tell me that? Things were going so well. You healed so many and you set countless others free. Our numbers were growing. Wasn’t it just a few short days ago when you were cheered like a king? What was it all for?

Was it for nothing? Was it just temporary?

Why did I give up everything for you? Because this isn’t really what I had in mind.

I loved you, Lord. You were my friend. You were my brother.

And now?

This? You gave me peace. Now I have pain. You gave me hope. Now I’m left with despair. You gave me courage. Now I’m cowering in solitary agony.

Your final words are still hammering in my head. What did you mean?

Because this really does feel like the end.

Everything in my heart and soul feels …

Done.

Over.

Finished.”