Holy (Silent) Saturday

                                  Holy Saturday...Silent Saturday
         This day of Holy Week has always held an especially tender place in my heart.  Yes, it's known as "Holy Saturday," but I've always considered it Silent Saturday.  Why?  Because the Gospels are all but silent on this mournful, barren day, bereaved day. 
        The only reference to this day after Good Friday when Jesus was crucified is in Matthew 27:62-66.  In these few verses, we're told that the chief priests and pharisees went to Pilate and said, "Sir, we remember how that imposter said, while he was still alive, 'After three days I will rise.' Therefore order the tomb to be made secure until the third day, lest his disciples go and steal him away and tell the people, 'He has risen from the dead,' and the last fraud will be worse than the first." 
       Pilate answers them in words that are, unbeknownst to him or these religious leaders, remarkably ironic. "You have a guard of soldiers. Go, make it as secure as you can." (As if an entire battalion, or an entire army, of soldiers would be able to stop the Son of God from rising from the dead! They could try to "make it as secure" as they possibly could, but it would all be for naught. But that's for tomorrow.)  So the religious rulers "made the tomb secure by sealing the stone and setting a guard."
        Incredible. Jesus' disciples, utterly overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, are hiding out in fear. They have obviously forgotten about Jesus' words that He would die and then rise on the third day. Anguish and terror have a way of doing that to us, don't they?  When we're heartbroken, we seem to forget God's promises or His presence. All we can see around us is an ocean of misery and sadness that threatens to drown us. And so we forget God and His promises...or we simply lack the energy or the desire to even try to remember. 
        Even as we grieve over the crucifixion and death of Jesus, we still cannot put ourselves in the shoes of those who loved Him so dearly, because we know the end of the story. We know that somehow, someway, Sunday is coming and Jesus is alive, praise God!  Oh but try, try to imagine how utterly bereft of hope those disciples and loved ones of Jesus felt.
       The One they adored, the One they were certain was the Messiah who would lead Israel to freedom, the One who loved them, ate with them, laughed with them, walked with them, taught them, performed miracles in front of them, lived everyday life with them...was gone. Forever. They would never again hear His voice or His laugh. They would never again feel His touch. They would never again learn from Him. They would never again experience the wonder of His love and compassion.
         And on this Saturday, all they heard was...silence. Nothing from God. Nothingness, only anguish and despair. How could God allow this?  How could this happen?  What was the Lord doing? Didn't He care? Didn't He love His people? How could God be good and allow this most horrific of all outcomes?  And with every haunting question, silence.
          Anybody ever been there?  Overcome by grief and heartbreak?  Stunned by the shock of the unexpected death of someone you love?  Desperate to hear from God, to try to understand why God could allow this. Yet seeing nothing, nothing, nothing happening.
          That's why this day has such a tender place in my heart, because we have all been there. We've all lost people or friends or family that we loved deeply, and our sorrow feels endless and barren. We've all experienced times of wondering how God could allow some tragedy or why He didn't seem to answer our prayers or what on earth He is doing in this mystifying silence or seeming inactivity with our "Silent Saturdays."
           And yet, look at what God was doing on this particular Silent Saturday over two thousand years ago. He was preparing to resurrect His Son. The angels in heaven surely stood on tiptoe in anticipation. The demons surely roared with sickening glee,  thinking they had won...but all the while, wondering and watching, much like those religious leaders.  Jesus would rest in that grave for only a few brief hours before all of the earth, heaven, and hell would be shock with the joyous, glorious wonder of a stone rolling away and the Son of God rising from the dead.  Soon all would hear and know and see that sin could not defeat Him, death could not conquer Him. 
           Yes, yes, yes, God was moving and working in a million different stunning and wondrous ways on this Silent Saturday.  Just because those disciples couldn't see it, just because they couldn't understand it, didn't mean it wasn't happening.  God was good, is good, and will forever be good. And yes, it's Silent Saturday, but Resurrection is coming.  It's coming and nothing and no one can stop it or stop the Savior.
              So if you're mired in the midst of a Silent Saturday, remember this day and trust the One who is sovereign, all-good, all-loving, all-wise, all-kind, all-forgiving, all-powerful, all-compassionate, all-glorious.  Just because you cannot see Him, doesn't mean He's not there. He is...and He's working and moving and bringing all things together for good for those who love Him.
              Keep remembering. Keep trusting. Keep looking up. Sunday is coming.
              To God be the glory.