The discipline of waiting...some thoughts on Holy Saturday

I love the hush of Holy Saturday. It reminds me that new life doesn't happen immediately.

First, we must wait.

We allow time for things to not be ok—in fact, things have gone terribly, terribly wrong. All is not as it should be. We can't rush the solution because the Solution itself is lying in the grave.

The discipline of waiting, I think, is to resist despair and engage hope. 

Hope is not like the loud evil that happened the night before. Hope is like the quiet dawn of a new day.

Holy Saturday is when we lean into quiet.

We quietly hope that the end is not the end. We call to remembrance the prophet Isaiah's words, "He will swallow up death forever. And the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces..."

Holy Saturday is the sacred pause between death and life.

We redeem this time by holding space, by remaining open to the possibility that this is not the end.

Death, we hope, is not the end of the story. Death, we hope, will not have the final word. Love, we believe, is stronger than death.

And so, we wait.