Easter Saturday

I've been reading a book called 'God on Mute' by Pete Greig. Its a really good book about why, at some key times in our lives, God appears silent. He's a really well known prayer warrior, who founded the 24/7 prayer movement, but this book is startlingly honest. He shares his own experience of his wife nearly dying, and living, but with a significant long term illness. Of how he struggled to hear God's voice, to understand what God was doing at any point.

 

He uses the days of Easter to show that Jesus went through this too, Maundy Thursday, in the garden of Gethsemane, pleading with God to take away this impending doom, of ultimately saying 'but whatever you want'; of Good Friday, when Jesus himself could not hear God speak, and then Easter Sunday when all prayers are ultimately answered. Its powerful, I'm still absorbing it, and I think I'll have to re-read it soon to absorb some more.

 

But he also mentions Easter Saturday (I read this bit yesterday) - he points out that because we know how the story ends we skip over 'today'. But can you imagine what it felt like? For His family, friends and disciples, who had watched Him die, and be buried, and were now grieving. Could they hold on to any scrap of hope that somehow it was going to be alright? What did they do? Did they hide, did they go to the synagogue? (It was their Sabbath) Did they find a safe place to wait? He mentions Bethany, as a place where friends were, where Lazarus was, a living reminder of the amazing things God could do.

 

So today, the 'ordinary' day in the story, where we will get on with our lives, doing the normal jobs that need doing, I'm remembering those of us who grieve, in Hope, that tomorrow does come.