The Bible is full of ‘three day stories”[1]: Jonah in the big fish; Joseph’s brothers in jail in Egypt; the plague of darkness in Egypt; Rahab hiding the spies, Jesus in the tomb, Paul’s blindness after being struck by God. On the third day is when the bad stuff ends. That’s the day we celebrate, and rightly so. But Third Day stories aren’t clear until the Third Day. On Day One and Day Two, it’s not yet clear how the story will end.
The First day of Third Day story is often a brutal one. Crucifixion Friday was the First Day of a Three Day story. That’s hard enough, those days when it seems like death has won.
But there is still Saturday before Sunday. It’s not the day when the tragedy occurred; it’s not the day when Resurrection brings hope and life. It’s that troublesome (and often very long) middle day. It’s not the day the first coronavirus case hit the US; it’s not the day we get the “all clear.” It’s the months in the middle.
Here’s what the Bible records the followers of Jesus were doing between Crucifixion Friday and Resurrection Sunday. (This is a combination of the details as they appear in Matthew 28; Mark 16; Luke 24; John 20).
At the rising of the sun, after the Sabbath on the first day of the week, the two Marys and Salome came to the tomb to keep vigil. They brought sweet-smelling spices they had purchased to the tomb to anoint the body of Jesus. Along the way, they wondered to themselves how they would roll the heavy stone away from the opening…
[They encounter the Risen Jesus]
They brought this news back to all those who had followed Him and were still mourning and weeping. They recounted for them—and others with them—everything they had experienced. The Lord’s emissaries heard their stories as fiction, a lie; they didn’t believe a word of it until Jesus appeared to them all as they sat at dinner that same evening (Resurrection Sunday). They were gathered together behind locked doors in fear that some of the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem were still searching for them. Out of nowhere, Jesus appeared in the center of the room and said, “May each one of you be at peace.”
There’s not a lot of info, but what is there is insightful. What do we see the closest followers of Jesus doing?
· Keeping a vigil of mourning
· Planning how to perfume the body of the dead Messiah
· Hiding in fear
· Mourning and weeping together
· Refusing to believe that Jesus was alive
For the most part, it’s not a great resume builder, really. You would think that the biblical writers might want to put a better spin on what happened here. “As the disciples were praying and rejoicing over Jesus’ impending Resurrection, Mary returned and told them the good news. And they said, “Of course! We knew it all along!” This is one reason, by the way, you can take the biblical writers seriously. They aren’t afraid to show warts and all of even the best people in the story.
No, they were mourning the death of their long awaited Messiah. They thought he was gone. They thought he had failed – and in that failure shown that he was not, after all, the promised deliverer. As far as they knew, he was never coming back.
Crucifixion Fridays are hard, but Silent Saturdays may be even harder.
Funeral days are hard, but they are at least full of adrenaline and crisis management and we are surrounded by support. But then the next day, when family drifts back home, and friends go back to their routine…that’s when Silent Saturday sets in. The loneliness and the emptiness…
It’s hard enough when it involves earthly things. But what about when our relationship with God is best described as a Silent Saturday kind of relationship? What if there is a spiritual loneliness and emptiness, a sense that God is aloof at best and gone at worst. What about the times when the heavens seem empty, and our prayers just seem to drift off into a void? What about the times when God is silent?
ANDREW PETERSON – THE SILENCE OF GOD
It's enough to drive a man crazy, it'll break a man's faith, It's enough to make him wonder, if he's ever been sane. When he's bleating for comfort from Thy staff and Thy rod, And the Heaven's only answer is the silence of God.
It'll shake a man's timbers when he loses his heart, When he has to remember what broke him apart. This yoke may be easy but this burden is not, When the crying fields are frozen by the silence of God.
And if a man has got to listen to the voices of the mob who are reeling in the throes of all the happiness they've got, When they tell you all their troubles Have been nailed up to that cross, Then what about the times when even followers get lost? 'Cause we all get lost sometimes…
There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold. And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone, All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone.
And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot, What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought. So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God, The aching may remain but the breaking does not. The aching may remain but the breaking does not. In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God.
John Ortberg tells the following story:
“From the time she was a young girl, Agnes believed. Not just believed: she was on fire. She wanted to do great things for God. She said things such as she wanted to "love Jesus as he has never been loved before." Agnes had an undeniable calling. She wrote in her journal that "my soul at present is in perfect peace and joy." She experienced a union with God that was so deep and so continual that it was to her a rapture. She left her home. She became a missionary. She gave him everything. And then he left her.
At least that's how it felt to her. "Where is my faith?" She asked. "Deep down there is nothing but emptiness and darkness …. My God, how painful is this unknown pain … I have no faith." She struggled to pray: "I utter words of community prayers—and try my utmost to get out of every word the sweetness it has to give. But my prayer of union is not there any longer. I no longer pray."
She still worked, still served, still smiled. But she spoke of that smile as her mask, "a cloak that covers everything." This inner darkness continued on, year after year, with one brief respite, for nearly 50 years. God was just absent. Such was the secret pain of Agnes, who is better known as Mother Teresa.
So what do we do with the Silent Saturdays of our lives? I want to offer a number of suggestions not so that you will be immediately aware of God’s presence, but so you can be purposeful and grow from this kind of season of your life.
Be honest with God. The Bible gives us permission to voice our hearts during Silent Saturday. Look at a few of the Psalms:
· Psalm 6:2–3 “Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing. Heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled. My soul is greatly troubled, but you, O Lord, how long?”
· Psalm 13:1–2 “How long, O Lord, will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day?”
· Psalm 90:13–14 “Return, O Lord. How long? Have pity on your servants. Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love.”
· “I cry to you for help and you do not answer me; I stand, and you only look at me.” (Job 30:20)
After my dad died, I kept a journal for years and did my best to be honest before God about my anger, fear, grief and depression.
I was talking to a friend recently going through some deep family wounding and her lament –during our conversation, looking to the heavens – was “Why? What is going on? How are you letting this happen? Where are you?”
N.T. Wright recently wrote an article about lamenting during the time of the virus.
At this point the Psalms, the Bible’s own hymnbook, come back into their own, just when some churches seem to have given them up. “Be gracious to me, Lord,” prays the sixth Psalm, “for I am languishing; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror.” “Why do you stand far off, O Lord?” asks the 10th Psalm plaintively. “Why do you hide yourself in time of trouble?” And so it goes on: “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me for ever?” (Psalm 13). And, all the more terrifying because Jesus himself quoted it in his agony on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22).
Yes, these poems often come out into the light by the end, with a fresh sense of God’s presence and hope, not to explain the trouble but to provide reassurance within it. But sometimes they go the other way. Psalm 89 starts off by celebrating God’s goodness and promises, and then suddenly switches and declares that it’s all gone horribly wrong. And Psalm 88 starts in misery and ends in darkness: “You have caused friend and neighbor to shun me; my companions are in darkness.”
A word for our self-isolated times. It is part of the Christian vocation not to be able to explain [why all this is happening]—and to lament instead. As the Spirit laments within us, so we become, even in our self-isolation, small shrines where the presence and healing love of God can dwell.
God knows your heart and mind; he already knows your deepest internal struggles. Voice them. Lament is okay. God is big. He can handle it.
2. Keep the vigils
In the spite of the pain of their loss, the Marys did what they had always done, which was part of the ritual of living in Jewish community. What Jewish people believed and what they did in almost every aspect of life were so intertwined that it’s hard to imagine that the vigil was not considered part of what God called them to do. There is something to be said for keeping the faith through an active commitment to obedience and faithfulness. I would like to offer four vigils I believe are helpful.
Pursue Church community. Don't forsake gathering together (Hebrews 10:25). The disciples did at least one thing right: they hung together in the midst of their grief. It’s important that we remain connected and not withdraw. In community, others came back and reported their experiences with the Risen Christ. Even in the midst of doubt, there was hope. We stay in community so that we can be challenged, encouraged, and held close. We need to feel the nearness of God’s people when God feels distant. We need the hope that lives in others when our sense of hope is gone.
If you are like me, you are feeling the importance of this right now. Honestly, there’s an introverted side of me that doesn’t mind some social distance. But there’s a spiritual side of me that longs for the physical proximity of Christian community. The church is God’s body; you and I are parts of that body. Without it we wither away. We ought to be longing to be reconnected in person. The Bible stresses the crucial nature of this.
So…let me step on toes. I can do that virtually as well as in person. If stats for church attendance are correct, some of you are in the process of experiencing your normal amount of yearly missed services, it’s just that now they are going to be all in a row. I don’t mean to be rude, but don’t make a big deal about this now if you didn’t then. I am not anti-vacation, but if travel sports and good beach days and staying out too late Saturday and camping and fishing took you away from church quite a few times this past year – well, church has never been the most important thing that oriented your weekend anyway.
But, if you’ve been thinking, “I don’t think it’s good to miss this much church” during this social distancing….remember that all year long. It will do your soul and our church community good.
Pray and Read Scripture. I don’t know that there is a formula for the best way to do this. There are all kinds of cool ideas about how to read through the Bible or how to pray. I don’t think they are bad; I just don’t think there is a one-size-fits-all kind of approach.
· Listen to or read the Bible.
· Pray alone - or get together with others online.
· Pray for a block of time - or throughout the day.
· Sing. There are theologically rich songs that
are good reminders of the hope we find in Jesus.
Dive Into Devotionals (podcasts, books, teachings). This is one way to experience the community of the church. It’s also a good way to find clarity about the Scriptures and to hear the testimonies of others. What did they do when they were in the First and Second days of their stories? Biblegateway.com; biblehub.com, preceptaustin.com, The Bible Project, the history of sermons and posts on our facebook page and website and churches all over the world. I just started posting a series on our church Facebook page on how to study the Bible. You can start there if you would like.
Practice Obedience. One of the greatest dangers we face is giving up and saying to God, “You know what? If I can’t feel your presence, I am going to live as if you’re not there.” We shake our fist at the heavens and begin to sow sinful things that can be forgiven and healed but will nonetheless be harvested (Galatians 6:7).
The Bible describes the way of obedience as “the path of life” (Psalm 16:11). There is something about faithful obedience that is not just healthy; it is wise and stabilizing. This, too, is sowing actions that you will one day reap – but this time it won’t be the wages of sin. It will be the fruit of righteousness. Also, I believe obedience is one of the ways we are conformed to the image of Christ – and in that conforming – as we begin to see what it means to ‘be like Jesus’ - we begin to appreciate the wisdom of the One who guides our life.
One thing I’m glad I did in the Silent Saturday years following my dad’s death: I put one foot in front of the other in the path of life, not perfectly and not energetically and more often than not just going through the motions, but they were motions in the path of life. Godly habits steady us in times of storm.
I wonder if it’s why I love a song Ashley Cleveland sings called “Don’t Let Me Fall Too Far.” That sounds like an odd request, but I get it. It starts, “I know the places where the ice is thin, too many cracks, you could slip right in…Don’t let me fall too far.” She finishes with, “I will hope for the things that I cannot see, I know you’ll finish what you started in me, Don’t let me fall too far…” I think it’s an honest request: I feel like I’m falling off the path; O God, in your strength, steady me and keep me going.
Practice obedience. One step in front of the other. When you start to stray on to ice that you know is thin, get back on the path that is thick, and solid, and will walk you in and toward life even if you can’t see it at the time. Right now, if you are stuck at home, that obedience begins in your relationship to your family. What does it look like to honor the image bearers around you?
Learn to wait
· Psalm 37:7 “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him. Fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way.”
· Psalm 27:14 “Wait for the Lord. Be strong and let your heart take courage. Wait for the Lord.”
I’m not good at waiting. I want problem resolution. Give me a task! This “shelter in place” time is strange one: What’s the best thing I can do? As multiple memes have reminded me, I can save the world by sitting on the couch. I mean, that’s an exaggeration obviously, but the idea that doing nothing is doing something….Ugh.
We so often want to be “human doings” that we forget what it it’s like to be “human beings.” The Bible talks a lot about the patience of God. That’s probably more than a hint that there’s something important about growing in patience as God’s people as we wait. I like what Jon Bloom wrote in an article entitled, “When God Is Silent.”
Why is it that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” but “familiarity breeds contempt”? Why is water so much more refreshing when we’re really thirsty? Why am I almost never satisfied with what I have, but always longing for more? Why can the thought of being denied a desire for marriage or children or freedom or some other dream create in us a desperation we previously didn’t have? Why is the pursuit of earthly achievement often more enjoyable than the achievement itself? Why do deprivation, adversity, scarcity, and suffering often produce the best character qualities in us while prosperity, ease, and abundance often produce the worst?
Do you see it? There is a pattern in the design of deprivation: Deprivation draws out desire. Absence heightens desire. And the more heightened the desire, the greater its satisfaction will be. It is the mourning that will know the joy of comfort (Matthew 5:4). It is the hungry and thirsty that will be satisfied (Matthew 5:6). Longing makes us ask, emptiness makes us seek, silence makes us knock (Luke 11:9).
Deprivation is in the design of this age. We live mainly in the age of anticipation, not gratification. We live in the dim mirror age, not the face-to-face age (1 Corinthians 13:12). The paradox is that what satisfies us most in this age is not what we receive, but what we are promised. The chase is better than the catch in this age because the Catch we’re designed to be satisfied with is in the age to come... It’s the desert that awakens and sustains desire. It’s the desert that dries up our infatuation with worldliness. And it’s the desert that draws us to the Well of the world to come.
Sometimes, the best way to hand over the weight of the world is to wait on Christ. Right now, there is no doubt we are experiencing deprivation: of church meetings, of physical contact with friends, of going places – remember places? It may be the deprivation of job security, financial stability, or even health, from the virus or because you can’t get other things treated because the health care system is making you wait.
Is this awakening a desire for the peace of God? What does it look to pursue God in the midst of deprivation? David said his soul longed for God like a deer panting for water. If that is our situation – we are desperate for something refreshing and life-giving – to whom or what are we turning? Remember Jesus’ admonition to the Samaritan woman: he was the water that brings life.
Don't confuse what you feel from what is real
The followers of Jesus huddled in their homes felt like it was over. It wasn’t. Just because something feels a certain way doesn’t mean that it is. I heard a wise man say once, “You will either judge truth by your feelings, or you will judge your feelings by what it true.” What is true is that God may feel absent, but He is not. God is with us always. Why does He feel absent? I don’t know.
· It could be that we are in rebellious sin.
· It could be that we are tired.
· It could be that God has removed the sense of His presence as a way of transforming us into the image of Christ as deprivation draws out desire. It could be that we are distracted. I don’t know.
But I know that God is near and faithful no matter how we feel. The sorrow of Silent Saturday may last for a time, but joy comes in the morning of Easter Sunday. Next Sunday, we celebrate a risen Savior as Silent Saturday gives way to Resurrection Sunday.
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[1] I got this idea from a brilliant teaching called “Saturday: Living Between Crucifixion and Resurrection,” posted by Richmont Graduate Universityon youtube. I don’t know who the speaker was. You can access the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U90EKNZPKCU