Pandemic Silences and Easter Saturdays

It’s a quiet Saturday.

The news is turned off, my family and I are having breakfast, and the house is still.

A bit of a contrast with yesterday. Last week. Last month. When the pandemic really started to hit with full force, our worlds and brains were ANYTHING but quiet. Instead it was filled with clamor and fear, frustration and worry. The news was loud. The twitter was explosive. The ruckus of tragedy falling on a people. That was what we all heard.

But then there’s today. And today’s not full of ruckus… but it’s also just quiet.

2,000 years ago yesterday, Jesus was crucified.

And on that day there was MUCH ruckus. Jews and Romans screaming back and forth at one another about who should be crucified that day…

“Should I release this robber???” Pilate shouted, “Or Jesus?”

“The thief!!!” The crowd screamed.

One or two disciples, Jesus’ mom, and a few others watched in horror, much like we watch our TV screens now. An unfolding trauma that they couldn’t stop. The noise of a moment they wish they could have changed.

It was a very LOUD day, Friday.

But then Nicodemus and Joseph buried Jesus in spices. Like the end of a long, terrible day where you try your best to tidy up the mess and pain of it all, they put him in a new tomb - one that had never been used. An attempt to bandaid what they know will probably never heal. Ever.

Apart from a miracle.

And then there was Saturday.

The bible is silent about Saturday.

There are paragraphs and full chapters written about Friday. Stanzas of the trial and execution of Jesus. And, there are chapters written for Sunday. But there is nothing, I mean NOT ONE WORD - for Saturday.

Just quiet.

Kind of like today.

We have all been through a LOT in the last month. The noise of a pandemic plowed through every part of our lives. Unstoppable and wild. Norms thrown off. Things being taken. Cancelations of moments and memories. And just a lot of shouting, really.

And then as the reality of it all set in, and the noise became somewhat more muted , we settled into our new world. The quiet didn’t mean peace mind you. It just meant owning what is: loss. Uncertainty.

Saturdays are good because they aren’t Fridays. But that’s about it.

Saturdays REALLY only hold power and promise if there is Sundays.

But thank you JESUS. There is a Sunday.

Jesus on Sunday rose from the grave, being the “first” born of a new generation that death will never touch. His resurrection was a first, but it won’t be a last. As an entire people (you and me) were invited into a NEW life. The old was gone. Buried. Forever dealt with. Forever silenced. And the new life - unstoppable, uncompromising, overcoming, victorious. BRIGHT and beautiful and resounding.

On Sunday we get to be made new.

The promise that you and I have in the silence and shadow of a pandemic, is that this is our Saturday.

And Sunday will come.

It’s as unstoppable as Jesus himself.

Our promise is on the way. A day of power and renewal. Where death doesn’t hold a sting, where our tears are no more, where there is fullness and life and RISING above. Saturdays are silent, but that’s simply because God is moving in ways we don’t see.

Easter is so incredible. So wonderful. So final in its promise for us. And Easter IS coming. Good news is ON THE WAY.

Take heart. Praise God. Stay strong. And hopeful. The tomb & the tragedy is temporary, but what God resurrects out of it is ours forever.

Love,

jessie