...time to hide from the Romans and plan our escape...
Jesus was crucified.
Each and everyone of those who followed Jesus had no idea that He'd be back, no idea that He was going to freak the living daylights out of everyone. No idea that He'd come and show them the nail holes in His hands, not to mention that His wounds would be healed.
Hello, nail holes?
They'd either watched Him die, or heard about it, and after their dark night of agony, their leader having died on a Roman cross, did they get a moment of sleep? They'd have woken up Saturday morning with their worlds at a stand-still. The Sanhedrin and the Romans had a fairly good idea who had roamed the land with Him, and now all of those people were either on the run, in hiding, or resigned to the winds of trouble about to come their way.
They'd put it all on the line, and the line was gone. Not just gone, but tortured and hung up for one of the most brutal executions known to human history.
I wonder how I'd have handled Heartbreak Saturday?
How would I have found it in me to do all the Saturday stuff that a wife, mom, and scribe would need to do?
Would I have been angry at Him for healing all those other people and not Himself? What about Lazarus? Jesus raised Lazarus, didn't He?
All the hindsight based self-interrogations would be useless, because no matter what, Jesus was dead and my world would have been as black as a cloudy, moonless Israeli night.
How many of those in mourning had a sweet clue that Sunday was coming?