They laid Him in a tomb cut into the rock, where no one had ever lain. It was the preparation day, and the Sabbath was about to begin. Now the women who had come with Him out of Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how His body was laid. They returned and prepared spices and perfumes. And on the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.
Luke 23:53b-56, NASB
And on the Sabbath they rested….
Do you hear the hollow echo of silence from heaven today?
What kind of crazy restless rest would followers of Jesus have experienced on the Silent Saturday between the death and resurrection of the Christ?
Here we are, in the liminal space of Holy Saturday, in the liturgical time of waiting, as if we are holding our breath.
The obscurity of the scriptures on what actually occurred during the time between Jesus’ death and resurrection is no accident. So much of our suffering and waiting feels like muddled obscurity.
The joy of the morning is magnified by the sorrow of the night, but let’s not just jump into the blissful joy of the resurrection without allowing ourselves to descend into the heavy waiting and longing that is contained in Holy Saturday.
As we rest, wait, and long, may our desperate hearts ache as those of the disciples, His mother Mary, and His beloved friends, as they held their breath until their lungs almost burst. Sometimes, in the waiting, it feels like our lungs are screaming for air, our hearts are crying for fulfillment of promises, and our minds are warring against the truths that we have long held to be true.
Hold on, friends. Rest in the waiting, and trust the Lord of time to return His promise.
The Beautiful Broken 