My 87 year old friend suffered a very severe attack of food poisoning. She told me, ‘I felt so ill, it was one of the worst days of my life.’ Just imagine how the disciples were feeling on Good Friday. Without doubt the very worse day of their lives.
For three years they had followed Jesus, they’d been with Him on the good days and the bad. They had witnessed the feeding of the five thousand, seen and marvelled at many miracles, as well as listening to hours of His teaching. They were beginning to think that He was the promised Messiah and that there were great days to come.
Then suddenly He became ‘enemy number one.’ Where were all the great dreams now? Wherever they were hiding in fear they would have known of the barbaric treatment of their beloved Master. From some viewpoint they would have seen His stumbling journey to the place of Execution. His body on the cross was prominent; they would have seen His anguish and then His slump into death.
All hope gone. The worst day ever.