Between Crucifixion and Resurrection: A Repost

I wrote this two years ago from the perspective of Peter on the Saturday between Jesus' death and resurrection. I've always imagined how the disciples must have felt on that day when all of their dreams had been shattered and were living in fear for their lives. They had been supporting a crucified Messiah after all, a man they thought was going to bring the Kingdom of God and throw out the Romans. And now he was dead and they were in hiding. At any rate, here it is. I hope it puts some of this weekend into perspective.


He was the one. He was the Messiah. He was the one that was going to lead Israel back to prominence, back to God.

And now he’s gone.

I just can’t believe it. I saw him do things that I could believe. Even seeing them with my own eyes, I had to convince myself that I wasn’t dreaming. I saw him raise the dead, cast out demons, make bread out of nothing. I watched in amazement as he took the fever away from my wife’s mother, calmed storms, and walked on waves.

I heard him teach about getting back to God. He talked about loving our neighbor. He talked just a couple of days ago about making the Temple into a house of prayer again. He was the one who was going to lead the way to God. He was going to remove the Romans and their lapdogs and set up God’s Kingdom.

And now he’s gone. I watched yesterday as he died on a cross. A cross! He was killed like a criminal, in between two thieves! He was the Messiah; he was the chosen one, and he was killed like all the others. Even John the Baptist was beheaded.

And I tried, I tried to get him to do it right. When he started talking about dying, I told him he had it wrong. And when he talked about that he came to bring a sword, I made sure I brought mine to the Garden two nights ago. I was ready. I knew that he’d set it up there and he was about to start the revolution. I didn’t know if he’d strike dead the Temple guards or convert them to our side.

But then he just went with them and that bastard traitor, Judas. I wasn’t going to let that happen. If he wasn’t going to start it, I was going to. I took it out and I slashed that servant of the High Priest. But Jesus even stopped that.

So I followed and when I got to the courtyard, I… I…


And now he’s gone. He like all those other Messiahs, dead by a foreign hand. I guess I could keep talking about the stuff he talked about. That was good, loving your neighbor, taking care of the poor, visiting the sick. That was good stuff.

I’ll probably go home now. I was making a good living as a fisherman. I was supporting my family.

I just know that I’m going to miss him, the twinkle in his eye as he got ready to heal someone. That look of righteous anger as he was going to confront those self righteous Pharisees. That smile of love when he got around children.

I’m really going to miss him…