Holy Saturday.
It is finished.
Jesus knew. Jesus went. Jesus suffered. Jesus endured. Jesus died.
The cross is empty. The body is buried. The tomb is sealed. The voices have fallen silent. Nothing moves.
It is silent.
Some of us know this feeling. Something we were sure would happen… didn’t. We are left grasping. Promises that feel broken. Prayers that seem unheard. God who feels distant. Doors closed, and no new ones opening.
A dead end.
All we have left is the memory of hope. We have trudged forward, with grit and determination, against resistance, because we trusted God. We have endured hardship, found the strength to stand, because God knows how we feel. But today…
It is silent.
Where do we go from here? It feels like there is nowhere left to go, nothing left to do. Were we wrong?
All those things we’ve experienced, do they mean nothing? Those promises we trusted, that we hung our hopes on… were they empty?
Maybe that’s what the disciples were thinking. From their perspective, the journey is finished, and the mission has failed. Everything Jesus told them led them to believe something better was coming.
Instead: grief. Death. Despair.
In some ways, nothing has changed. And yet, everything has.
It is silent.
But it is not finished.
The promises still point… somewhere. Something hard to grasp. Hard to comprehend.
Silence does not mean absence. Silence does not mean nothing is happening.
Behind a heavy stone, in a dark tomb… something is.
It is silent, but God is not finished.
It is silent, but the story is not over.
It is silent… so now we wait.
It is silent, but dawn is coming.
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