Holy Saturday

I think this is my favorite holiday of the Christian year -- the day of waiting. Christ takes His Sabbath day of rest in the tomb, and His few remaining followers are huddled together with no idea what would happen next.

It's easy to fall into despair on Saturday -- is God active? Does He hear us? Can He do anything about our predicament? We may shout and scream like the prophets of Ba'al on Carmel, but when the fire doesn't come (at least, the way we want it to come), it's easy to give up on God.

It takes great faith, then, to make it through Saturday -- the kind of faith that trusts God to provide twice the normal harvest in the 6th year so we can let the land rest awhile.

We need a Word to get through this day -- to build up the faith we need. So we read of the mighty acts of God. Surely this is the God who fights for us too, right? The God who parts seas and presses "pause" on the sun is the same God I'm praying to about my life and my pain. Waiting is so hard; I need reassurance. I need to know that everything's going to be all right.

I wonder what Peter and the disciples read on Saturday. I can imagine a lament psalm or two was voiced. "Why do the righteous suffer?" "Why are You so far from me?" Or, maybe, the reminder from the Preacher: "Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless." Life seems meaningless on Saturday.

I suppose this is why we need the community of believers -- the body of Christ, the temple of the Holy Spirit. When God seems to be at rest is when I need my brother and sister to be close, reminding me that after the dark night of the soul comes morning. With God, there's always another morning.

So here we are: God at rest, and us huddled together waiting for the 8th day -- the 1st day of a New Creation week. Reading, praying, remembering, encouraging, witnessing. . . steadfast in our faith until God moves again.

Maranatha!