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Growing Together: Life at Green River Alliance Church

Saturday: The Hope Before Easter

  • Kevin Batson
  • Apr 4
  • 4 min read

Silence.

Waiting.

Uncertainty.

If you’ve ever walked through a season where it felt like God had checked out, you know exactly what Saturday feels like.

We call it Holy Saturday. It’s that strange, heavy space between the agony of the cross and the glory of the empty tomb. It’s the day when the world held its breath. It’s the day when the "miracle worker" was laying in a borrowed grave, and His followers were left wondering if they had gotten the whole thing wrong.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that first Saturday. Because, if I’m honest, most of us spend a lot more time in "Saturday" than we do on the mountaintops of Sunday.

The Day the Miracles Stopped

Think about the disciples for a second.

Just a few days earlier, they were riding the high of Palm Sunday. The crowds were cheering. People were throwing coats on the ground. It felt like the Kingdom was finally here. Then came the betrayal. The trial. The whip. The nails.

By Friday night, Jesus was dead.

By Saturday morning, the silence was deafening.

There were no more blind eyes being opened. No more bread and fish being multiplied to feed thousands. No more walking on water. Just a cold stone and a sealed tomb.

I imagine Peter sitting in a dark room, replaying his denial over and over in his head. I imagine Mary staring at the floor, the image of her Son on the cross burned into her mind. They didn’t know the end of the story yet. To them, Saturday wasn't a "brief pause" before a celebration. To them, Saturday felt like the end.

A dark, empty tomb entrance in rough stone—quiet, heavy, and unresolved.

When God Seems Quiet

Have you ever been there?

Maybe you’re there right now. You’ve prayed the prayers. You’ve gone to the services. You’ve tried to live the right way. And yet, the "tomb" in your life remains sealed.

The medical report didn't change. The bank account is still empty. The relationship is still broken. The depression hasn't lifted.

Saturday reminds us what it feels like to wait on God when it feels like He isn't doing anything. It’s easy to have faith when the sea is parting or the walls of Jericho are falling down. It’s a whole different ballgame to have faith when the sky is gray and God is silent.

But here is the truth I want you to hold onto today: Silence is not absence.

Just because you can't hear Him doesn't mean He isn't there. Just because you can't see the movement doesn't mean He isn't working.

The Work in the Dark

In the natural world, Saturday is when the seed is buried in the dirt.

To the naked eye, nothing is happening. It looks like death. It looks like waste. But deep in the dark, beneath the surface, the shell is breaking. Life is germinating. The very thing that looks like a funeral is actually the beginning of a harvest.

The disciples didn’t understand yet: but God wasn’t done.

While they were mourning, the plan of the ages was reaching its climax. The "quiet" of Saturday was the prelude to the greatest "shout" in human history.

As a part of the Christian and Missionary Alliance, we believe that Jesus is our Savior, Sanctifier, Healer, and Coming King. But we also recognize that the "Coming" part often involves a period of waiting. We live in the "already but not yet." We know the victory is won, but we still feel the sting of the battle.

A small green sprout emerging from dark earth, illustrating new life and hope growing during a Saturday season.

Joy is Coming

There’s a verse in the Psalms that I keep returning to whenever the "Saturday" seasons of life start to feel too long.

“Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” : Psalm 30:5 (ESV)

Notice it doesn't say weeping might tarry. It says it does. It acknowledges the pain. It validates the tears. It doesn't tell you to put on a fake smile and pretend the tomb isn't there.

But it promises a "morning."

Saturday is the night. It’s the long, dark stretch where you aren't sure if the sun is ever going to rise again. But the promise of the Gospel is that the sun does rise. The stone does roll away. The breath does return to the lungs.

If you’re in a “Saturday” season… hold on.

Don't let the silence convince you that the story is over. Even when it feels finished… it’s not over. God is often doing His most profound work in the moments we feel the most abandoned.

You Don't Have to Wait Alone

One of the reasons we value "Real Community" here at Green River Alliance Church is because waiting is hard to do by yourself.

When the disciples were in that upper room on Saturday, they were together. They were scared, they were confused, and they were grieving: but they were together.

That’s what church should be. A place where we can sit in the silence with each other. A place where we can remind one another that Sunday is coming when our own voices get too tired to say it.

If you’re feeling the weight of the wait, I want to invite you to join us. You don't have to have it all figured out. You don't have to have "Sunday energy" to walk through our doors. You can bring your Saturday questions, your Saturday doubts, and your Saturday heart.

Tomorrow, we celebrate the Resurrection. We celebrate the fact that death lost and Jesus won. We celebrate the hope that changes everything.

But for today? It’s okay to just wait.

It's okay to acknowledge the uncertainty. Just remember that the tomb is only temporary.

Sunday is coming.

I’ll see you tomorrow morning as we celebrate the King together.

Pastor Kevin

 
 
 

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