Holding Space for Silence
Embracing the Silent Saturday of Easter
I’m still on vacation, but I think I’m going to publish a version of this post (originally written in 2022) every year because it is so important for us.
Today is Palm Sunday and next weekend will be Easter. For some of you who are in the process of deconstructing and reconstructing your faith, this can be an awkward experience. Maybe you have changed churches, or left church, or just don't feel the same warm and fuzzy feelings you once did.
It's okay. You are not alone. That first weekend where Jesus died, was buried, and then rose from the dead was awkward too. Talk about a whiplash of emotions for his disciples!
I am looking forward to my favorite day of Easter weekend—the silent Saturday between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. It's kind of an uncomfortable day. What are we supposed to do with it? Jesus was just, dead.
It's easy to remember the crucifixion of Jesus and then jump quickly to the fact that He didn't stay dead. I often hear people say, "It's Friday, but Sunday is coming!"
Can I ask you not to go there?
Don't rush. Saturday is all about loss, pain, and grief. It's a day of lament, of doubt, of crushed dreams. A day we can all relate to. As I thought about Jesus’ friends and family a few years ago, I wrote this poem:
The birds sang
on Saturday morning
Cheerful trills and cheeps
sounding sharp and cruel
The world moved on
but Jesus was dead
Hopes dashed
Plans changed
Dreams crushed
Yet the birds sang
as if nothing happened
The sun that was dark
yesterday afternoon rose
as if nothing happened
The rocks that shook
yesterday afternoon stood still
as if nothing happened
The world moved on
but Jesus was dead
Stillness and sound
Darkness and light
Caught in the tension
of hope and despair
Was there hope?
Did anyone hope that
tomorrow would be different?
This silent Saturday reminds me that it's okay to feel those sad feelings. It tells me that life in our broken world is filled with tension—with moments in-between. So often we want to rush to Sunday and celebrate, but sitting in the lament of Saturday is good for us. This is real life. This is a place where many of us find ourselves personally and it's okay.
God wasn't done. He wasn't gone. He wasn't distant or angry. He was just waiting. He was quietly embracing the sacred middle place. Allowing space for doubt, grief, and pain. And on this coming Easter weekend, I hope that you can allow yourself the space for your own doubt and lament. That you can rest in your own seasons of silence.
God has not stopped loving you. He is not distant or angry. There will come a day when the sun rises again and hope springs new. But it is okay if that’s not today. It is okay if on this day you have more doubt than belief, more despair than hope, and more questions than answers. God is not disappointed. He is waiting with you, in silent solidarity, and with never-ending love.
Thanks for reading! I’m always up for a more rebels to join me on my adventures, so reach out if you have thoughts or questions. You can find me on Threads, Instagram, Facebook, in the Substack app, and on my website. I’d love to connect with you on any of these places!
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This is excellent, Christy! I’m a bit late reading it, but it still applies.
This was so beautiful. Good Friday is the religious holiday that means the most to me - not because "Sunday is coming" but because I appreciate the time to sit in silence and in grief, and to realise that sorrow is a part of life too.