Saturday dawned, and the three crosses were silhouetted against the morning sky. They were empty, for the two thieves and the radical preacher were dead already, and the bodies had been taken down the night before.
The preacher's followers were in hiding, fearful of the Romans, fearful of the Jewish leaders, heart broken because their Master had been killed. It had been a long night.
What would they do? James and John might return to their father and ask to be allowed back into the family business as fishermen. Peter had a family to consider. He had his own boat, so returning to the sea was also something that went through his mind.
But that was not what any of the followers wanted....they wanted their Lord back. How could this tragedy have happened? Wasn't He the Messiah? But he was dead!
The sun rose in the sky while the disciples were huddled in a room in the city, their shock and grief too raw for them to do anything for the moment.
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