By Kolleen Lucariello | April 15, 2017
Silent Saturday. This is how I refer to the day between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. It’s the day I imagine those who personally knew Jesus were shattered by disbelief and dazed into silence over what their eyes witnessed during the prior days. Even though He tried to prepare them for what was to come, their hopes were set on a different plan for the future. And on this day—hope was silenced. Saturday must have seemed as silent as the earth under a fresh snowfall.
For those supposing Jesus had come to rescue Israel and become their earthly King, the events of Good Friday crushed their hopes. For those who had loved Jesus as a son, brother, and friend, the events crushed their hearts. Jesus never held back the facts from them; He told them He would go to the cross and then, after three days rise again. In fact, He told them at least three times (Mark 8:31, 9:31, 10:32-34). However, it seems no one remembered when we consider no one had waited at the tomb for Him to reappear. I don’t hold that against them; it can be easy to forget the promise of Sunday when forced into a Silent Saturday.
It would seem we all must, at one point or another, face the silence of a Saturday. You know, those occasions we find ourselves disoriented and confused in our it-is-not-supposed-to-be-like-this moments. We’ve made our plans, and set our focus on the future, never anticipating we’d be thrust into the silence of a Saturday.
The wait for the prognosis is long.
The cancer diagnosis came.
The sudden death of a parent happened.
The unanticipated divorce papers were served.
The fire that consumed the dwelling also took the life of a child.
The accident hospitalized, leaving others to anxiously wait.
The rebellious child left.
The addiction caused the overdose.
The harsh words released brought a complete fracture.
The spouse tragically dies.
Silent Saturdays leave us bruised and shaken in the same way those who loved Jesus were bruised and shaken by the cross. But, here’s the thing they couldn’t see and we forget, too: Jesus was still working on Silent Saturday. He was taking back the keys to death. Every time Jesus talked of His death – He spoke of His resurrection. He wanted His disciples, and the rest of us, to know that with the pain of Good Friday, through the silence of Saturday, there would come resurrection Sunday. And on this day—Hope spoke.
When we find ourselves in the middle of a Silent Saturday, and our greatest desire is to turn and walk away in despair, we must tune our ears to the sound of hope. What does hope sound like? I think it sounds a lot like Jesus when he said, “I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have [perfect]peace. In the world you have tribulation and distress and suffering, but be courageous [be confident, be undaunted, be filled with joy]; I have overcome the world.” [My conquest is accomplished, My victory abiding]” (John 16:33, AMP).
As we allow God to change our identity – one letter at a time – we begin to recognize Christ is always at work. Even in the midst of our pain, because our hope is placed on the resurrection, not the silence of Saturday.
Be H-Hope filled
Kolleen is the author of the devotional book, The ABC’s of Who God Says I Am. Read more by Kolleen at http://www.speakkolleen.com/