When You Don't Know What Nothing Feels Like...

What does nothing feels like?

Like the Saviour in a grave.
Like an empty cross but the tomb still full.
Like burial clothes and the hurry to hide death before sundown.
Like the weight of a stone rolling itself between you and the only hope you've ever known.
Like locking yourself in a room because you don't know how to live anymore.
Like shock so deep you can't cry, can't eat, can't breathe.
Like grief so thick it suffocates you.

Like the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

I don't know what nothing feels like.

Because, I have not lived through God's death.
Because, for all my life the cross has been empty, but so has the tomb.
Because, with every sunset "He is risen!" can only remind me of the horror I missed.
Because, the only thing ever rolled between me and my Hope is a stone of personal doubt.
Because, if I've locked myself in a room, it was to hide from the Living God.
Because, nothing can ever shock me as much as the redemption that rescued my soul.
Because, even when grief threatens to suffocate, one thing will never change again. He lives.

Because Saturday nothing has only ever been a day for me to remember all I have and will never lose.

I don't know what nothing feels like.
You don't know what nothing feels like.

Praise Him. He is risen. He is risen, indeed.