The trek through turmoil is a slow one. When mess surrounds, the mundane persists. Life unravels but the dishwasher needs to be loaded and unloaded, the car needs gas, and the trash must go out. Elisabeth Elliot, widow of one of five missionaries murdered in the Ecuadorian jungle in 1956, taught this admonition: “do the next thing.” In other words, in that spot of loss or commotion, you move forward to a task at hand, however menial, even if you don’t feel like it.
John Ortberg assigns such a holding pattern to the Saturday between the crucifixion and the Resurrection. He writes of the “silent Saturday,” when the terror and adrenaline of Friday’s nightmare were over, yet no one knew about Sunday’s coming triumph (Ortberg, 2012). The followers of Jesus could not foresee it, especially as they waited through the silent Saturday ritual day of Sabbath rest.
But they got through Saturday and got up on Sunday. With their world having fallen apart, Mary and two other women arose early, prepared spices, and went to the tomb to embalm the dead body of Jesus. It was a routine task, but they managed to get up and “do the next thing.” (As ordinary as the women’s act of ministration was, it is recorded in all four Gospels: Matthew 28 v 1, Mark 16 v 1, Luke 24 v 1, John 20 v 1.) And that’s when they discovered the miracle! The tomb was empty, angels on guard, and then their encounter with Jesus! In doing the mundane, they experienced the Divine!
In our lives, the extremes are not usually as glaring as crucifixion Friday and Resurrection Sunday. We face losses and tragedy, healing and success. In the middle life of these, we press forward in daily simple obedience to God. Though I find the encouragement to “do the next thing” very helpful, here on Easter Monday, I remind myself that every day this side of the cross is really a victory lap!
Ortberg, John. (2012) Who Is This Man? Zondervan.
