Then Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth. He put Jesus' body in a new tomb that he had cut out of a wall of rock, and he rolled a very large stone to block the entrance of the tomb. Then Joseph went away. Matthew 27:59-60
God, in the flesh, is dead.
From the moment Jesus spoke the words "It is finished" all of humanity was without hope.
God, the Promised Messiah, the future King of the Jews, the King of all Kings, the one who healed the sick and lame, who raised people from the dead and walked on water, sin had defeated him.
That entire Saturday, the day after His death, this very day two millennia ago, must have been the most hopeless in all of history. Those who knew, loved, and follow the Christ, they were more than likely astonished. Hours had passed and Jesus, the Savior, remained still in the tomb. His burial place heavily guarded by the Centurions.
Those who hated Him, who literally loathed His very name, had no idea how doomed they were. They had rejected Him, although they had walked amongst Him, seen His miracles, and heard Him speak. Yet, they celebrated the death of their Creator. The only one who could ever save them from themselves. They felt hopeful on this Saturday knowing that the nuisance, Jesus of Nazareth was dead...defeated...just another man after all. A heretic, a fool, and a traitor. Little did they know, that within their hope lay the truth: these too, we're ultimately sentenced to hell along with His followers.
Satan had won.
Death defeated Life.
That entire Saturday the worlds fate was sealed, so it seemed. All life without hope, without purpose, without meaning, forever drowning in a sea of death and separation.
But Saturday came and went. Jesus lay dead still. And then, Sunday...