Silent Saturday. We know that God gloriously raised Jesus from the dead on Sunday. But his disciples...they lived through an unbearable Saturday.

In the wake of Friday's horror was Saturday's grief: How can the one who raised the dead and healed the sick be bested by pagans and religious hacks? The terror: If the master was treated this way, how would their demise be any less brutal? The shame: What now? They had left everything. Were they the naive victims of history's cruelest prank? Had they followed nothing more than a trickster-madman?

Saturday: another unbearable sleepless night. For all these disciples knew, every night would feel this way for a long, long time. No answers. No hope. Just the head-splitting silence. The loneliness as they tried to make sense of the last few years and wrap their minds around the brutal reality of living life without their rabbi, their mentor, their best friend.

But unbeknownst to them, the tomb of the Messiah wasn't so silent. The body of Jesus was beginning to teem with resurrection life. In just a few hours these disciples would be jolted by an early morning knock at the door. And a handful of women would proclaim to them heart-stopping news. News that would forever change history...