Today is Holy Saturday, the day after Jesus was crucified.
This year, more than ever before, Holy Saturday weighs heavy on me.
It is the day between Good Friday and Easter, both highly acknowledged and observed in churches, of course, as those two days are what Christianity is built upon. Without Easter, we have nothing. But Saturday? What do we do with that day?
For our current modern-day Church, nothing much is said or done on this day.
We basically ignore the day because we know the ending to the story. Easter. Resurrection.
Holy Saturday for me has always been a day in suspense. A day of waiting. A day of hope. And honestly, a day of Easter bunnies and eggs.
However, for those early believers, those who knew and loved Jesus, Saturday wasn’t a day of waiting.
It was just the day after he died.
The day their dreams shattered. A day of deep grief. A day of overwhelming sadness and utter confusion. A day lived in shock. It was a dark day, filled with fear. To them it must have felt like the end.
I get that. I understand the confusion and the loss.
“From a tragedy…. and way before a resolution… is silence.” — Pastor Joe
Today, for just a few moments, I want to witness their grief. I want to acknowledge their sorrow and pain. We live in a culture that doesn’t know what to do with grief. We want to move on as quickly as possible. We want to have a normal Saturday and then celebrate Easter. But this day, for them, was a solemn day.
A day to pause, reflect and grieve.
I wonder if we would observe the day differently if it was called Grief Saturday?
Holy. Grief. I have come to realize the two walk hand in hand.
“But God’s silence does not mean God is absent.” — Pastor Joe
I will celebrate Easter tomorrow. I will rejoice in the hope I have in Christ’s resurrection. I will treasure the promise I have of seeing my husband again. I will thank God for his goodness and faithfulness to me as I’ve journeyed through grief these past months.
I will proclaim new life and new meaning in this season of my life.
But for a few minutes, on this Holy day, I want to pause. I want to stop the normal routine. I want to take the time to grieve with those who lost a loved one.
Yes, even though.