Holy Saturday
Open Your Bible
Matthew 27:62-66, Luke 23:54-56, Isaiah 53:8-12
BY Kaitlin Wernet
“I cannot even begin to imagine.”
It’s a response I’ve gotten used to as someone who writes about grief and feels it often. It’s all said with good intentions, of course, a nod to the gravity of the situation, but mostly, what I want to say in return is, “Yes, of course you can.” This life hurts, certainly we have all felt that.
There’s peripheral grief, the pain we find in tweets and headlines, feeling the loss of someone we once knew or will never meet. It’s the kind we pass through like a hospital hallway, guilty to be leaving so obviously whole, and yet, so unmistakably broken.
There’s nearby grief, sympathy pangs for the people we love and would trade places with in an instant. If only it could be us, we could tend to our own wounds and know exactly where it hurt. But instead, we visit, we sit, we wait, we do our best.
Then there’s intimate grief, the deep aches that shape us and never leave us the same. This kind ushers us into an entirely new reality, where we wonder if we’ll ever find joy again. And at the same time, we also question if we’d even want to, if we deserve to.
Holy Saturday—the day between Jesus’s crucifixion and resurrection—invites us into all three dimensions of grief, a display of just how heartbreaking this life can be. After Jesus’s death, we see the silent doubts of onlookers in the crowd, feel the loss experienced by His closest disciples, and intimately grieve Our Father’s separation from His Son. With all of this obvious pain, it’s no wonder we’re hesitant to believe the good-news promises that have been made to us. And yet, here’s the most important part of today’s reading:
The next day, which followed the preparation day, the chief priests
and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate and said,
“Sir, we remember that while this deceiver was still alive he said,
‘After three days I will rise again.’ So give orders that the tomb be made secure
until the third day” (Matthew 27:62–64).
Although the scene was full of grief and doubt, the tomb was still secured by guards. While they said they were afraid His followers would steal His body, part of me wants to believe there’s a bigger truth at play here: Even those who opposed Jesus believed there was a chance He would keep His promises.
Regardless of whether we feel grief coming at us from all sides, or we don’t feel able to believe that God is who He says He is, the resurrection still comes. Easter still happens. Jesus offers the kind of mercy I cannot even begin to imagine or understand. Thanks be to God, whose faithfulness is good and whose promises are true. Amen.
51 thoughts on "Holy Saturday"
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Although this Easter will be altered we know one thing to be true. Joy comes in the morning.
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Tina and Churchmouse thanks for the hope filled words. I will be copying them so I can reread them over the coming days, weeks and months.
Maura hallelujah and amen.
Pam G. Williams thanks for sharing the poem loved it. -
Thank You Jesus for everything
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THANK YOU, ASHLEY P., I TOO HAVE BEEN IN A PATTERN OF WAITING THESE LAST 3 YEARS, AS GOD STRIPPED AWAY A LOT OF WHAT “MADE ME, ME”. HE HAS REVEALED SOME THINGS, AND YET AS WE GO THROUGH TRIAL AFTER TRIAL, AND LIFE SEEMS TO STAY ON HOLD, I’M STILL IN ESSENCE , WAITING. HE’S SHOWING ME THAT I NEED TO STAY IN THE NOW, JUST SIMPLY TRUSTING HIM FOR EACH NEW FOOTSTEP AS HE LIGHTS UP MY PATH. I DON’T HAVE TO FIGURE IT OUT (VERY DIFFICULT FOR A MULTI-TASKING PLANNER. HE HAS FREED ME FROM MUCH OF THAT. A LATE LESSON FOR A 73 YEAR OLD . THANK YOU, JESUS, THAT YOU NEVER WASH YOUR HANDS OF US, BUT CONTINUALLY REMIND US OF YOUR SACRIFICIAL LOVE….SO UNDESERVED.
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I wish I had seen and heard this on Thursday, the occasion of the Last Supper and Christ’s betrayal. I watched a Maudy Thursday service where this old poem from the 11thC. was set to music. the paradoxes of the words were so moving that I want to share it here:
THIS IS THE NIGHT by Peter Abilard (11th C)This is the night, dear friends, the night for weeping,
When powers of darkness overcome the day,
The night the faithful mourn the weight of evil
Whereby our sins the Son of Man betray.This night the traitor, wolf within the sheepfold,
Betrays himself into his victim’s will,
The Lamb of God for sacrifice preparing;
Sin brings about the cure for sin’s own ill.This night Christ institutes his holy supper,
Blest food and drink for heart and soul and mind;
This night injustice joins its hand to treason’s,
And buys the ransom price of humankind.This night the Lord by slaves shall be arrested,
He who destroys our slavery to sin;
Accused of crime, to criminals be given,
That judgment on the righteous Judge begin.O make us sharers, Savior, of your Passion,
That we may share your glory that shall be;
Let us pass through these three dark nights of sorrow
To Easter’s laughter and its liberty.-
❤️
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wow, I love this poem. thank you for sharing!
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Dorothy, I share with you in your mourning and in your joy. I’m praying for everyone. God give you peace and strength in your season. ❤️ God is good.
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Maybe I’m just more ready than normal for Easter this year, but as I read the passage from Matthew 27 today, I couldn’t help but feel the stirrings of Christ’s victory. I love how with God there is always more going on than meets the eye. God does some of His best work behind the scenes. Lord, give us spiritual eyes to see your hand in the world and in our lives!
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It struck me in today’s reading how the women observed where Jesus was buried and then prepared spices to anoint his body but by the time they had finished, it was Sabbath and they needed to rest and wait to anoint his body. I wonder how they must’ve felt, the sorrow and emotional turmoil at being ready to anoint their Lord but having to wait with their prepared perfumes sitting there, untouched. It must’ve been an incredibly hard day of waiting for them. I feel like I’ve been in a season of waiting and quiet that has been taken to a whole new level as world wide, we are all now experiencing it due to this pandemic. I’m considering how the way the women felt in their waiting and longing may be similar to our own feelings right now—yet, on that Holy Saturday when it seemed like Jesus was gone and hope was lost, Jesus was really crushing the power of sin and death out of his great love for us. I can have hope, even in the quiet waiting, that God is at work and He is victorious. Easter will come. Our Lord lives!
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