Holy Saturday. Possibly the weirdest day in the church calendar.
It’s not Good Friday, with its gruesome horror, justice and politics, earthquakes and thunderstorms, powerful love and ultimate sacrifice: the world-shattering story of God, as an innocent man, dying for the sins of his people so they could have new life.
But it isn’t Easter either. That begins tomorrow, and I won’t spoil the surprise just yet.
Holy Saturday is the day in between. A day when not a lot happened. A day of getting on with life, amid confusion and bewilderment and questions. A day when Jesus was just dead. A day when God was just silent. A day when evil seemed to have won, when hope seemed lost, and when no one could quite see what God was doing in it all.
A day, in short, like many days we experience now.
If you’ve ever seen a tragedy unfold but felt powerless to do anything about it, and a little guilty about carrying on with life afterwards, Holy Saturday is for you.
If you’ve prayed and prayed for someone and they still fell ill or died, and you wonder whether God was listening at all, Holy Saturday is for you.
If you look at the state of the world and find it hard to believe there really is a God of love, Holy Saturday is for you.
If your journey of faith is sometimes painful, frustrating, unclear or even mundane, and seems to continue by sheer determination alone, Holy Saturday is for you.
Holy Saturday is a day when God would like to put his arms around you and say, “Even though you can’t understand yet why all this is going on, trust me: I will always love you.”