When God Was Silent

Last night we left the Good Friday service in silence as we usually do. And so we sit today, on Holy Saturday, in that silence. Though it is not so silent for us. We took the kids to an Easter egg hunt today. Then we met some friends at the Y for climbing and swimming.

That first Holy Sabbath following Christ's crucifixion would have been drenched in an uncomfortable silence for it was a day when God was silent.

The Son of God was dead--death placed him in Hades, separated from God.

The disciples sat together in stunned silence. I imagine they would have been unable to worship at the Temple that day. Their Messiah whom they expected to overthrow the oppressors was dead. God had not pulled through.

I'm guessing those who were witnesses were shook up after the confusion and chaos of Good Friday (what kind of person goes to a crucifixion anyway?). At least one centurion left questioning why an innocent man was executed. The religious leaders maybe left feeling smug or relived to have that troublesome Nazarene out of their way, but I have a feeling they were unsettled the next day.

And here we are. Last night we heard the story of the Son of God being hung on a cross, and it is not yet Easter morning. We all have times in our lives when God is silent. Several saints experienced years of it.

Like the disciples huddled in the upper room, we ask "What next?" It feels like God has abandoned us; His plans changed and He's not doing what we thought He'd do. It feels like all hope is lost. It feels empty and lonely.

And so we wait in the emptiness. Wait for God to speak again. Wait for answers. Wait for direction.

We can only be reassures that we are not alone in the waiting.