Silent Saturday

Today in the church calendar, we pause to remember the day that Jesus chose to stay in the tomb. The day that the whole world held its breath, wondering if He really was who He said He was. 

This morning, I woke up and opened my prayer journal and asked the Lord, “Why did you stay in the tomb?” I don’t think I’ve ever paused to consider this question before, but it feels important to ask. And I think that there are various answers to that question, but the one that resonates with me today is the invitation that it is to settle into the silence like the disciples did. I know I am not the only one that feels uncomfortable in silence. My tendency is to run to business or activity, rather than leaning into the tension I feel in stillness. I don’t want to engage with the questions that creep into the quiet; I am quick to run to my distractions, but today I feel called to sit.

This year for Lent, I intentionally tried to tune my ears to hear the voice of the Lord. I’m in a season of engagement, anticipating exciting, major, life changes this summer, and I am desperate to hear the Lord’s voice for direction and guidance as I navigate the unknowns and consider all the decisions to be made in this season. So I practiced more silence, I tried to immerse myself in Scripture to familiarize myself with His voice; I sought wise counsel from others, I read a book on listening, I fasted; I even got to go overseas, where I often feel closer to the Lord and His voice…yet after all that, I come to the final day of Lent with few testimonies of hearing His voice. There were a couple soft whispers—a verse striking me, a comforting peace, or a gentle convicting question. Yet I’m still waiting on the big answers and the clear statements that I was craving regarding my future. 

So here I am, on this silent Saturday, still waiting for my Savior to speak. I resonate with what the disciples must have felt on this day: struggling to sit in silence with hundreds of questions about their uncertain futures. The disciples didn’t have the next chapter like we do today. They must have sat in that upper room feeling shocked, grieved, and confused. They not only lost their good Friend, but their Guide and Teacher. In that, they must also have felt as if they lost their purpose and direction. Their expectations and the security they had, were stripped from them. Jesus was not the Messiah that they thought would overtake Rome. He was not the Messiah that would get down from the cross and save Himself. They didn’t yet know that He was the Messiah who suffered those things so that they would be saved.

My current experience of His silence is not so much about the core identity and deity of Jesus, but about His character, questioning if He will show up for me in the way I need Him to. The questions that creep in are less about if Jesus will rise again, but about if He will provide again, if He will guide and direct me in my upcoming season of marriage, if He will provide a home and the necessary finances. I don’t know what questions you are asking in this season, but let’s acknowledge that these questions are still heavy, and silence is weighty. 

Like the disciples, when the direction and pace of my life come to a screeching halt or to a mysterious bend, I’m left feeling anxious and confused. I imagine that the hearts of the disciples were asking questions like, “Was all this for nothing? Was I believing a lie? Can I still have hope? What now?” Their hope and their plans for the future had been shattered and they were now left staring at the pieces in that dark upper room. 

There is beauty in crawling into that upper room with the disciples today. Crack the door and settle in, next to Peter and John. Feel the weight of the heavy silence, and allow the questions to come. Give yourself space to sit in the gap between the two greatest days in history. It is not a coincidence that there was a day in between the crucifixion and the resurrection, and certainly not a mistake that it was the Jewish Sabbath for the disciples. In that time, it was the law to rest on the Sabbath. By law, stillness was enforced. No errands, no meal-prepping, no chores, no distractions. 

Today is a reminder that God is not afraid of silence. He is a God who speaks, and speaks likely more often than we realize, but He is also a God who welcomes silence, who is not afraid of the questions and doubts that arise in the gap. Today, my conviction for myself and my encouragement for you, is to step into the silent stillness. Pause for a moment before the Easter celebration and allow the questions to come. As they come, confess them to our King, who is surely Risen and victorious not only over sin and death, but over our doubts as well.