This day between Good Friday and the Sunday of all Sundays settles into a silence of sorts. It’s the space where most of us live, most of the time.
Nothing much happening around or in us, or so it seems.
Caught between the death of some one or some thing and our hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow, a better us or them.
This is the time to believe what cannot be seen or felt.
Before the robin sings or forsythia blooms, before the prodigal returns, or healing happens, before word spreads of an empty tomb, to believe God’s at work in the silence. To believe God’s at work in the dark, when life makes a u-turn and all hell breaks loose to make you feel the fool for ever believing Love had a fighting chance.
God, of Sacred Saturdays and Silences, grant us that speck of faith to sense what cannot be seen, to wait patiently in the dark, to dare to expect a Sunday of Sundays once more.
For Christ’s sake,
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“He is risen!” and it’s a good thing He is. “He descended into Hell” has lots of interpretations, but knowing He never will leave us or forsake us is the only explanation I need.
Thanks for your faithfulness to His Spirit as you reflect and write.
What great and glorious hope we have! Praying you have a blessed Easter full of reminders that when life feels like that silent Saturday there is hope and a promise that Sunday is coming!
Jan, once again your words spoke to my own heart as well as that of a dear friend who has deep concerns for a family member. Thank you!
Do you remember Ken Colby who worked at Gordon College for many years. We wondered where they went, and his son sent a note on facebook, that his folks have Alziners(?) Dottie is in hospice and Ken is in a home in Newburyport. We had a wonderful time with them when they lived in Rochester and went to Emmanuel Church. Hope you are doing better with your new knee. Love Eleanor.
Amen and amen. Thank you for the reminder of those Saturdays where we live most of the time. Blessings to you and yours Jan!