Somber Saturday came. His followers were still in hiding,
his friends still in mourning,
all of them, still in despair.
After all, Love had died the day before. No doubt in their minds.
The women at the cross heard him say, “Father, into your hands I
commend my spirit. It is finished!”
They had seen his head droop and had heard death’s rattle
from deep within his chest.
They had followed the funeral procession out to the place of burial
and watched as his body was carefully wrapped in linen clothes
and placed within the tomb.
They cringed and sobbed as the stone sealed the silence.
He was dead.
The One who loved them was dead.
The One they loved was dead.
LOVE was dead.
Even his friends thought his story was over. THE END!
And they, too, closed the book on LOVE.