Holy Saturday

For us, Holy Saturday is a day of waiting. We know what happens on Sunday - we know the familiar rhythms of the story, the promise of a stone that will be rolled away, and a grave that will be empty, and a Jesus who will be raised, scars and all. 

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

But even though we know how the story ends, we also know something closer to what Jesus' friends and followers might have felt on that first Holy Saturday. On our own Holy Saturdays, we have awoken to the numbing realization that the horrifying, painful, agonizing events of the day before were not, in fact, just a bad dream. On our own Holy Saturdays, we've sat with one another in shock as the rest of the world continues on, as if nothing of note has taken place. On our own Holy Saturdays, we slowly begin to piece together what life might look like as we move forward, even as the gaping space inside us threatens to swallow us whole. 

One of the things I appreciate about our faith in general, and the Holy Week story in particular, is the range of emotions it encompasses. Whatever we may be thinking or feeling at any given time, we can find ourselves in this story - full of love, exhausted, betrayed, determined, guilty, anguished, grieving, in pain, afraid, amazed, disappointed, joyous, or some combination of these.

However this week finds you, whatever part of the story resonates most this year, know that God's promises are for you. On this Holy Saturday, as we wait, and on your own Holy Saturdays, when resurrection is something you don't even dare to hope for, know that you are not alone.


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