On Saturday, the priests and Pharisees approached Pilate.
“Sir, we remember that while this deceiver was still alive he said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ 64 So give orders that the tomb be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come, steal him, and tell the people, ‘He has been raised from the dead,’ and the last deception will be worse than the first.”MATTHEW 27:62-66, NASB
The only words we hear on Saturday are from those who wanted Jesus dead. And His followers quiet.
No words from God. No words from His followers. Another period of silence. Between the here and the not yet.
We should never mistake God’s silence for His absence. We know this. You know this.
He is never absent. He is always present. Always working.
We know it in our heads. We sing songs about it. We wear tee shirts that proclaim its truth.
In the silence that was Saturday, God was doing His very best work. For our good and for His glory.
But too often I have lived as if it’s a fanciful myth. You?
Too often I have lost hope in the quiet. In the dark. In the anytime I wasn’t in control. Speaking of myths.
I have had my share of Saturdays. Lasting too long. Too dark. Too unknown. And I would never try to water down the angst of your Saturday. Its pull. Its weight. Its fear. I’d sit with you if I could. Listen. Cry. Try to make you eat something.
And then I would want to whisper softly, Let Saturday’s silence be your friend.
Let it fertilize your faith. And allow your growing faith to give you hope, an anchor for your soul. For your truest Hope is in the One who holds You in His hand, and has your every tomorrow in His sight.
Our greatest Hope truly is on the other side of every silent Saturday!