Interestingly enough, when I think about Easter I think a lot about the Saturday that came before the resurrection. Imagine being in the place of the disciples. The hopelessness that they felt, the deep dark despair they sat in. It was probably finally sinking in that one of their closest companions was gone. They had just lost the only hope they had for freedom, their calling, and most importantly a friend that loved them deeply.
I don’t know about you, but I can totally relate to these feelings of despair and hopelessness. Right before I began to follow Jesus I felt this kind of grief. It felt as if darkness enveloped my life and there was no way I would ever find my way out.
The good news is that the sun set on Saturday and rose on Sunday and there was victory over the darkness. What Easter means to me is that even though I don’t deserve this kind of hope I never have to feel that lost ever again. That the darkness can never defeat me again unless I choose to give my life to it instead of the one who paid for every sin I will ever have. Easter means joy, hope, and a life I never dreamed of having.