Sometimes, silence screams.
She harangues us with intrusive thoughts:
You’re alone.
You’ll always be alone.
Nobody sees you.
Nobody understands.
Nobody cares.
And for a valley-walker, the relentless shriek can be deafening.
Yet, in God’s beautiful, upside-down kingdom we find that, often, the loudest things happen in the silence.
I’ve been thinking about that silent Saturday between the crucifixion and the resurrection, when Jesus was in the tomb. I believe that must have been the longest, saddest day in history. I can’t even imagine what His followers experienced during those hours. Their friend was dead, but it was ever so much more than that!
The Messiah was dead.
The Way was dead.
The Truth was dead.
The Life was dead.
Love was dead.
Hope was dead.
Satan screaming, swirling, shouting victory cries. Demons dancing on the dead Messiah’s grave, certain they had won.
Everyone, deaf to the symphony that was taking place behind the stone.
Friday had been devastating, and Saturday felt utterly hopeless. Can you imagine how empty the world seemed when “God with us” was no longer with us?
Some months after my husband went to his eternal Home, I found myself in a season of Saturdays. The trauma and initial devastation of my loss started to lift, and hopelessness hovered like a vulture. It screamed at me that all was lost and my future had died with Jeremy. The world seemed empty of purpose and the silence was deafening.
But God.
Ever so softly and persistently, the sweet Holy Spirit whispered Psalm 30:5 in my ear.
“Weeping endures for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”
Wait… Joy? Friday’s worst had happened. It was now Saturday, and God seemed awfully silent. All of my plans, dreams and hopes for the future seemed forever lost. Joy was impossible.
Wasn’t it?!
Then, the song lyrics started to play in my head, “Since when has impossible ever stopped You?”
No, impossible didn’t stop Him then, and it certainly isn’t going to stop Him now!
He knows Friday was dark. He sees Saturday is silent. And He wants us to remember that Sunday is coming.
It came for the despondent disciples. It’ll come for me and you.
God is still here with us. He is still on His throne. He is still writing our stories into His story. This plot twist was no more of a surprise to Him than the plot twist of the Creator laying down His life for His creation. He knows what He’s doing. My “Friday” was a pivotal point in His perfect plan for my life, just as that tragic Friday, some 2,000 years ago, was a pivotal point in His perfect plan for my eternal life.
The silence of Saturday isn’t the end of the story; it’s just a dramatic pause. We must wait and listen for the sweet sounds of daybreak. The sound of resurrection.
Do you suppose the Spirit whispered Psalm 30:5 into the ears of Jesus’ followers on that silent Saturday, so many years ago?
Perhaps He did.
But did they hear Him?
I believe He’s whispering it to your heart and mine today.
Can you hear it?
This story is not over.
Weeping endures for a night, but hold on…
Sunday’s joy is coming.
