Saturday

“We exalt in our tribulations …” I have those words underlined and hi-lighted. That is a tough concept to run with. Face it; we all have days when we think, “I just can’t get through this.” It’s part of the human condition. Life throws adversity at us, and usually it’s unexpected. James Taylor summed it up pretty well in “Fire and Rain” when he sang,

“Won’t you look down upon me Jesus

You got to help me make a stand

Just got to seem me through another day

My body’s achin

And my time is at hand

I won’t make it any other way”

That’s Saturday, that day when everything you believed in, everything you placed your faith in, comes crashing down and you’re alone and scared. You’re ready to give up. Hope is just another four-letter word.

I was arrested on a Monday; it was a terrible day. And yet, it didn’t compare to that first Saturday, five days later when I was ready to give up. You’ve heard of “come to Jesus” moments – that Saturday was mine. A year later it was on an early Saturday morning when they woke me up at receiving. My mail had been “misrouted” the C.O. said. For weeks I’d held on to some ridiculous (in hindsight) hope. Four a.m. they woke me. “Sign for this,” the officer said. It was an envelope from the court; my divorce was official. I felt an emptiness and heartbreak I didn’t think possible. All the hope I held was dashed and shattered on those three legal pages.

            “In a clearing stands a boxer

            A fighter by his trade

            And he carries the reminder

            Of every blow that laid him down or cut him ‘til he cried out

            In his anger and his shame

            I am leaving, I am leaving

            But the fighter still remains”

Simon and Garfunkel. Those two guys knew where I was that dark fall morning in October 2009. I was “beyond” hope. I have that date recorded next to Paul’s words in his letter to the Romans: “We exalt in our tribulation …” Go to hell Paul, I thought. He didn’t have any idea how lost and discouraged I was that Saturday. And what kind of ironic twist has me reading that particular verse that particular day? Yeah, it was Saturday.

I had always considered myself mentally and emotionally tough. I had become a lawyer not out of any real intellectual curiosity, but instead because of the dream of gladiatorial combat in the courtroom. And I thrived in the battles. So often, like the victorious boxer standing over his vanquished fore, I exalted in breaking my opponent in court. But here I was, humbled, broken, feeling more alone and scared than I could ever imagine.

I’m not sure when it hit me, but sometime during Lent an idea blossomed in my mind. As it would be expected I came across Paul’s exhortation to thrive in difficulties, and I saw the different dates registered around that verse, each date an emotional scar, a reminder of blows that laid me down and caused me to consider throwing in the towel. And, I thought about another time and other people.

They were a small, tight knit group. They had given up everything to follow him and they hadn’t been disappointed. Their three-year trek had been one miracle after another; and his words – they were like nothing they’d ever heard before. Everything they’d been told about God, and life, and justice, was turned on its head. They believed. With everything in their being, they believed he was the long-awaited Messiah. Then came Thursday and the terrible betrayal. One of their group, one of their own, turned against this Man of God. And Thursday led to Friday and Friday was even worse. They killed all their dreams Friday on a desolate hill.

It dawned on me that Saturday was a lousy day to be a disciple. You had said out loud this man was the Son of God. Now, he was dead. The fear must have been overwhelming that Saturday. At that moment, I knew they – and He – knew exactly how low I felt all those days. It was life and life kicks you in the teeth and knocks you to your knees and its Saturday and you have nothing left and hope is gone. And then it’s like the Tom Petty tune:

            “The waiting is the hardest part

            Every day is one more yard

            You take it on faith you take it to heart

            But the waiting is the hardest part”

           

It is so very tough to have hope and go on on Saturday.  But, that was what Paul was getting at. It’s an idea as old as humankind; it’s an idea King David expressed over and over in the Psalms:

            Wait for the Lord

            Be strong and let your heart take courage

            Yes, wait for the Lord

I realized, looking at my Bible, there hadn’t been another “Saturday” in almost two years. There’d been dark, terrible days during that time, but never the fear and hopelessness I’d known and documented so many days before. It’s because I knew there was a “Sunday.” Pauls’ verse about exaltation doesn’t end with tribulation. It goes on; tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint….

And I thought back to “The Boxer” – “But the fighter still remains.” You don’t quit; you don’t give up; you go on because you know no matter how bad Saturday is, there is Sunday.

            Prison had made me an Easter believer. I know that sounds funny, but Paul was onto something. It’s in those Saturdays, those terrible days when we are at our lowest that faith flickers and we hang on because we know what happens Sunday morning.

I’ve seen way too many Saturdays, but those Sundays, well I know anything is possible. Prison is Saturday … but the future is Sunday.