Consider Satan’s Easter Celebration. The Anti-Easter.
Two millennia ago, Satan was relishing his deception. He was rejoicing in his plans. Judas had accepted the tempting silver and then returned to share a meal with his teacher. Satan tried to calculate the days, no hours—maybe minutes—until Jesus would be betrayed and ultimately killed.
To his surprise, the plan progressed quickly—Jesus would be covered in blood that evening before a hand was raised to lash Him and before nails were placed in His wrist. In the garden, Jesus was pleading, but Satan was finalizing his celebratory dance to welcome the darkness and begin his reign—no longer buffeted by the bleating Lamb.
Handed over, accused, stripped, beaten, abused. Satan called his clan to observe. Gasping on the cross, Satan sang over his gathered death disciples. Upon the last breath, Satan’s crescendo rang out and echoed a celebratory, “It is finished!”
The intervening hours and days felt like an eternal party. An orgy of disorder, drunkenness, decay.
But in the darkness, the veil was torn. He’s not omnipresent like his Maker, so he could not see it. Not omniscient, so he didn’t know it was coming. Not omnipotent, so he couldn’t stop it.
How did he hear the news when he was finally shaken from his drunken stupor? What could the empty tomb actually mean? Why was there a peaceful stillness echoing through the garden?
Oh, that agonizing shame and sickness and sadness and fear that he dripped on others now poured over his head.
On this side of Calvary, for two millennia Satan has celebrated his Anti-Easter—every year.
I wonder if he lives in denial? Or he busies himself on Good Friday so that he doesn’t have to dwell on the coming Sunday?
Does he try to drum up the false joy of his finite party that could not be sustained for more than a handful of minutes?
Does he rage at the thought of his head being crushed?
Does he foolishly try to mock those who have experienced the empty tomb, the baptismal waters of resurrection, those who know of its peaceful power? Power that he can never possess.
Every year the serpent is reminded that his kingdom is temporary. The things he breaks will be fixed. His song will be silenced.
Every year—like everything else he tries to create—his Anti-Easter mocks him.