Saturday’s Silence

On the next day, which followed the Day of Preparation, the chief priests and Pharisees gathered together to Pilate, saying, “Sir, we remember, while He was still alive, how that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise.’ Therefore command that the tomb be made secure until the third day, lest His disciples come by night and steal Him away, and say to the people, ‘He has risen from the dead.’ So the last deception will be worse than the first.”
Pilate said to them, “You have a guard; go your way, make it as secure as you know how.” So they went and made the tomb secure, sealing the stone and setting the guard.
Matthew 27:62-66 (NKJV)

Can you imagine the deafening silence that cut through Saturday’s air? Friday’s tears reemerging in the eyes of His followers who were scattered around the city that early Saturday morning; their sadness sinking, their guilt rising.

Pain has a way of disabling us like no other emotion can do.

This year was the first year that while reading the crucifixion story I thought about how difficult Saturday must have been for those who knew Christ had been wrongfully murdered and was now dead in the tomb. And not only was He dead, but His body also lay behind a boulder being guarded throughout the day, leaving them no opportunity to see Him one last time.

The silence of Saturday, a Sabbath without the voice of Christ saying “come, follow me,” was more painful than any pain they had ever known. I’ve known grief. I’ve known sadness. I’ve known the pain of losing a close, close friend. So reading Matthew chapter 26 reminds me that God called mere human beings, flesh and bones, and fears and tears just like us, to enter into the story of redemption and love. This is my comfort: if God allowed their pain to bring joy, He will do the same for mine.

I imagine, like the grief many of us have experienced, Mary, Peter, John, James, and Martha, were replaying memories of personal teachings or reminiscing on the deep belly laughter of Jesus while being weighted by the heaviness of loneliness. Did the memory of His horrific death cast a shadow over His promise to come back?

The glory of grace was in the air, but their broken hearts had no idea that the silence of Saturday would make room for shouts of joy at the announcement of a risen Savior on Sunday.