The Longest Day

This is a fictional conversation between two disciples reflecting on the days following Christ's death. While the exact words are not recorded in Scripture, it imagines the grief and confusion they may have felt in that moment of waiting.

The room was dim, lit by a single flickering lamp. Sabbath had come, but there was no peace in it. Just silence. And grief.

Thomas sat with his back against the wall, staring at nothing. “He's really gone,” he said.

Andrew didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “I saw it with my own eyes. He didn’t even cry out at the end… He just said, ‘It is finished.’ And then… He was.”

Thomas shook his head. “Finished. That’s what it feels like. Like everything we believed in just came crashing down.”

Andrew leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I keep thinking... how did we get it so wrong? We followed Him for three years. We saw blind men see. We saw Lazarus walk out of a tomb! How could He die like that?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas said. “None of it makes sense now. We thought He was the One. But Rome’s still in charge. The priests are still smiling. And Jesus... Jesus is buried in a borrowed grave.”

“I heard Joseph got the body,” Andrew said. “Wrapped it, buried it before sunset. It all happened so fast.”

Thomas rubbed his eyes. “He said something once… about being handed over and rising again. But we didn’t understand Him then, and I sure don’t know. If He meant that literally… why didn’t He stop any of this?”

Andrew looked over at him. “Because He let it happen. That’s what haunts me. He didn’t fight. He didn’t even defend Himself. He just gave Himself up.”

Thomas didn’t answer. The silence stretched out.

Andrew finally spoke again, quieter this time. “And we ran. All of us. I don’t know what’s worse—losing Him, or knowing we left Him alone.”

Thomas looked down at the floor. “Where are the others?”

Andrew shook his head. “I don’t know. Hiding, maybe. Or trying to get out of the city before someone comes for us next.”

“No one even talked about a plan,” Thomas muttered. “We just… scattered.”

“It’s like the light went out and we all forgot how to walk,” Andrew said softly.

“What do we do now?” Thomas asked.

Andrew’s voice cracked. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

The only sound was the soft crackling of the fire. Outside, Jerusalem was quiet. Inside, only questions remained.