It’s Saturday. Jesus has been crucified and laid in the tomb. Hope has been lost – or so it would seem. I imagine that his closest followers spent Saturday in silent depression. Their friend was gone, not to mention their greatest teacher. I imagine that doubt had overtaken their minds and their hearts as they wondered what went wrong and if he really was who he said he was.
Doubt. Saturday. The day between crippling death and victorious life. The waiting period. The meantime. The wondering. The yearning for things to be different. The longing for the Promise to be fulfilled. Saturday.
I have had my fair share of Saturdays. My fair share of years spent in that sacred period of wondering. Of yearning. Of doubting. Of waiting. Some of those days and years were spent kicking and screaming and fighting God. Some of them were spent numb as I refused to feel the pain and disappointment anymore. For so long I viewed Saturday as a punishment. As a cruel joke. Nothing good can happen on Saturday. In the waiting. In the yearning. In the Promise not being fulfilled. Nothing good can possibly come of Saturday.
It was in the longest Saturday of my life (a Saturday that has yet to turn into Sunday) that Jesus began to show me His face. At first it was just a glimpse of his eyes. And then later on it was His smile. His laugh. His beard. His hair. The wrinkles in His face. It was here, in this longest Saturday, that I began to let Him sit with me. He knows the groaning of waiting all too well. And He promised that as He sat with me, He would hold my hand and show me more of who He is. More of who Papa is. More of who Holy Spirit is. He promised never to leave. He promised that it would be worth it and that Saturday would one day turn into Sunday.
And so I wait. And I wonder. And I yearn. Oh how I long for Sunday. For Resurrection and Life. For death to be defeated in my life. For His Promises to be fulfilled. For that day when Saturday is only a fleeting memory and Sunday is what I live in. I wait. But now as I wait, I wait with Him. Not for him, not on him. With him. He is here. He is in Saturday. He is not dead, he’s only sleeping. Victory and Resurrection Life are tomorrow. And so tonight I sit. And I wait. And I rest in Saturday. For tomorrow it will all make sense.
Hi! My name is Stephanie, and I'm the girl behind this blog! I'm a pastor and a writer and a lover of all things chocolate. As you browse the content on this page, I hope you find yourself encouraged and smiling. At some moments, perhaps you would even shed a tear or two. Most importantly, I pray you find hope in whatever season you're walking through. We are in this journey together, and my calling is to encourage you along the way!