Saturday

The Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday is an interesting place for me this year. It's a day that doesn't get much attention during Holy Week, really. But particularly today it is deep with meaning and significance for me.

For me, it's a day of the silence of God.

Palm Sunday is Jesus' triumphant entry; He is clearing the temple Monday, visiting the Mount of Olives Tuesday; He is teaching the true meaning of the passover meal in all its deep symbolism Thursday; and Good Friday is this culmination of prophecy and generations of sacrifices - heaven and hell both a frenzy at seeing God on a cross.

Then Saturday. Jesus is dead, the disciples are scattered. Yes, we know Sunday is coming but I really think the disciples were doing a whole lot of soul searching on Saturday. They weren't sure what had just happened, their understanding of the prophecies and of Jesus' teachings seem a little shaky throughout the gospels. Maybe some of them were wonder if any of it was really true.

There is a whole lot of theological stuff to wade through about what exactly Jesus was doing on Saturday that might be a fun topic if your into that sort of thing. But today I've just come face to face with how terrifying and confusing and hard Saturday must have been for the disciples - and it comforts me.

Without going into a whole lot of detail, this year in St. Louis has been terrible for Logan and I. We've walked through some really life changing, soul crushing stuff. And there has been a lot of silence from God.

Scary, confusing silence.

We've had to sift through the pat answers and comforting falsehoods that people repeat and believe to ease the tension. The reality is that sometimes Christians go through things that hurt and don't make sense. We're not promised that it will make sense to us in our lifetime. Some hurts and brokenness might not be healed while on earth. And sometimes when we go through this stuff, God's presence and comfort is withheld - or at least it feels that way.

Don't get me wrong, we've learned a lot. We've grown closer. We've been able to see glimpses of God's provision and care for us. But it isn't always clear and some days its just a whole cloud of pain and fear.

Which is why Saturday is comforting to me. It reminds me that it's ok to feel this way sometimes.

The tension remains today. As I sit and reflect on all thats wrong: death, cancer, war, terror, racism, hatred, mental illness, poverty, sexism, infant mortality, broken relationships... So much pain that we don't understand, such a mess.

Sometimes I feel like the disciples on Saturday: not really sure where God is during it all, but holding for dear life to the words of the one they'd followed. The one they left everything for, who spoke with such authority and love, who had such power, who made their hearts leap..........who seems........gone.
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Yes, I know Sunday is coming. I hold onto the promise, using aching and tired muscles to climb the rainbow through the rain. Man, songs about the beauty and joy of heaven all make me cry like a baby and long for them to come true right now like I've never longed before.

I plan to read the final chapter of Redemption Accomplished & Applied tomorrow and just rejoice and sing that Christ has risen and will raise us. I plan to say "He has risen indeed!" and cry "come, Lord Jesus, come" tomorrow full of hope that all that is sad is coming untrue. This hardship makes the promise of the total resurrection of all things - the earth, and His people - so much sweeter.

But on Saturday I want to remember that I have a great High Priest who is able to sympathize with my weakness. I reflect back to Maundy Thursday and Good Friday and see that even in this silence Jesus has been there.

As Jesus contemplated what was about to happen to him in the garden, what steeled His resolve to go through it all was His love for us. I like to think that He looked ahead to Saturday when the disciples would be reeling, trying to make sense of what (from their limited perspective) seemed like inactivity and silence from God.

He took on true abandonment from God and so much more so that when I wake up on a Saturday kind of day, the aching may still be present, but I won't be destroyed by it.

And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot

What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought

So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God

The aching may remain but the breaking does not
- The Silence of God by Andrew Peterson

p.s. This is a great sermon on the Garden of Gethsemane from one of our pastors from Grace DC, Russ Whitfield. It is well worth your listen: Restoration