Good Friday is a name only given in retrospect. It certainly would haven’t been dubbed that at the time. It was as far as it gets from good.
We spend lots of time reflecting on what Jesus’ death means for us, though lately I can’t help but think just how disillusioning it would have been for the disciples. Anyone who’s ever had a close friend die knows the shock that numbs your body upon hearing the news. Imagine that you actually saw the death. Imagine the death was a bloody murder. Now imagine that friend actually led a movement you halted the rest of your life to train in and be apart of.
That day of death would be the death of a lot of other things – of dreams, of plans, of ideas, of a future, of a hope.
From what we can gather the disciples gave up. They may have continued to meet – but their purposes where to wonder how in the heck that happened, and not how to continue on forward.
Have you ever lost heart? Have you ever thought this whole Christianity thing doesn’t work? Have you maybe even given up on it altogether?
So did the very people who walked, ate and slept beside Jesus. And they are the ones who spread this thing so far that you’re here two thousand years later.
The disciples were packing their bags. It was fun while it lasted. It didn’t work out after all. It seemed so right.
The good news is of course that Jesus arises. We all go through times of wanting to give up on Christianity. Then we see Jesus, alive, after being dead. Though it nearly knocks us down our knees just as we were when we were ready to give up on it all, Jesus is alive.
So find comfort not only that those who slept next to Jesus lost hope and abandoned it, but also find comfort that Jesus is alive.