Saturday Is Coming (Is Here)

If you’re like me and you grew up in a youth group that consistently tried to figure out what the next “cool thing” in ministry was, then you’ve seen it. If you’re like me then you probably saw it at a big youth camp on some university’s campus whose claim to fame is a decent women’s basketball program and once upsetting some lower tier SEC or BIG12 program in football in the early 2000s. If you’re like me, you thought it was awfully powerful the first time you saw it, adequately inspiring the second time, and borderline mundane the third. 

“BUT SUNDAY’S COMING” it would proclaim.

(If you’re still lost, here’s a link: It's Friday... But Sunday's a Coming)

Let me be clear, the message of this video is in no way bad. It’s founded in good intentions and I can honestly say I loved it the first time I saw it (really). Let me also be clear that this is not about the changing tide of media and presentation in the constantly evolving world of Christianity and the gospel (because goodness knows there’s plenty to say about that). This is about the day that the video skips. This is about Saturday. 

It’s Holy Week (yay?). It’s the last week of Lent. Palm Sunday kicked it off, Maundy Thursday in its pot-lucking glory is quickly approaching, and Good Friday is around the corner. This is a week of deep emotion. A week that growing up, if I’m honest, I rarely invested myself in (don’t be mad). I know this week is important. I know this week is vital to my faith. But I also know this week is hard. This week is confusing. This week is dark and clouds are gathering. 


That’s what I should tell myself, right? I should enter into this Holy Week with the hope of Sunday. I told myself that for years and seldom did it produce any plum of hopeful fruit. So the past few years I’ve tried something a little different. 

“Saturday is coming.”

It’s a whisper. It’s a quiet reminder. Between Friday and Sunday there is Saturday. It is quiet. 

I am not a theologian, I don’t read my bible enough, and I have never owned a commentary. 

But I have experienced Holy Saturday. I have felt alone. I have felt abandoned. I have felt an emptiness in my faith. 

I still feel that I am in Holy Saturday.

And I don’t ever want to forget that I am there.

I, we are in between. We rest in a time where yes, Christ is risen (indeed), but the world is still shrouded in the clouds of Saturday. And though Sunday has come and gone and we are confident in the hope that it is coming again, I cannot, we must not, forget that we are resting in Saturday. 

And so even though I know that the Hope of Sunday is coming, I am ever mindful that Saturday, too, is coming and is here and it can be very dark. The light of Sunday is always breaking through the clouds of Saturday but I pray that I do not forget those clouds. Because I fear that if I forget the clouds, then I forget my humanity; I forget my brokenness; I forget why Sunday is so important. 

Sunday is coming, yes, but it is coming because Saturday is here.