Jesus is Dead.

They had been intriuged by his teaching.
They had dared to come close to him.
When he told to quit their jobs and go touring with him, the dared to do it.

They had seen him heal people from diseases. He had made blind people see and cripples danced after an encounter with him. They'd seen him do unbelieveable things. He'd multiplied some bread rolls and a couple of fish to feed thousands of people. They'd seen him walk on water!

But he was so normal. He was one of the lads.
He knew how to have a laugh. But when he was serious, wow, he could cut right to the heart.
He taught about loving the unlovable and he practiced what he preached.
He had time for everybody. When he looked at you, you know you had his undivided attention.

Last Sunday they had been with him. He rode into town like he owned the place. They treated him as if he was the king. People were going as far as saying he was the Messiah.

They were daring to believe in him.
Last night they were eating and drinking with him. He was quieter than usual, but he was still the best friend they'd ever had. But when the stuff hit the fan, they all ran. They just left him...

Now Jesus was dead.

Were the last three years a complete waste of time?
What about everything he'd said about the Kingdom of God? Was it all made up?
What about everything they'd dared to believe about him? What were they meant to do now, eh?

Everyone recognised them. Everyone knew they used to hang out with Jesus. Now he's dead. What are people gonna think? What a bunch of losers.

Jesus is dead. The disciples are gutted, absolutely gutted. Friday night is a dark, dark place to be... and Saturday doesn't look much brighter from here. Come to think of it... from a disciple's point of view... Sunday looks pretty bleak too.