A Saturday Kind of Season

My heart is so tired right now. I have no words of my own to share, but two posts spoke to me tonight. The first says:

Saturday is the "day in between," the day we can celebrate what God has said, that has not yet come to pass.  Saturday, between the crucifixion and the resurrection, is a day to remind us that much of life is lived between the seemingly impossible promises of God, and their final fulfillment.

When hope is completely obliterated and no sign of God’s goodness is visible, Saturday reminds us that the feelings of fear, or hopelessness can be stifling simply because we do not yet see the end of the story.  Saturday reminds us that God comes through, even though today we may feel He has abandoned us.  Saturday reminds us that death has a power of it’s own, and sometimes it’s a necessary step to reach Sunday.

The second post, from a wise woman I grew up with, says:

Consider the Easter Triduum, where the power of love brought both suffering and redemption, brokenness and healing.  Refining fire and perfect holiness.  The crucifixion and resurrection.  Death and life.  We cannot have one without the other. But, today, we live in the in-between; so close, yet so far.  We are stuck in the waiting room of our hearts, and it hurts…a lot! 

And I can’t help but think about how Jesus’s disciples, the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene, and all His friends felt on this haunting morning so many years ago.  

Jesus, their son/brother/friend, the Lamb of God who was supposed to redeem the world, was gone. Falsely accused, battered and bruised.  Scourged, crowned with thorns, hung on a cross to die.  Their last hope, wrapped up and laid in a tomb.  Everything they’d sacrificed for, endured persecution for, the one person they trusted and believed in…gone.

Consider the words of Mother Teresa, “Silence.  Be alone with Him in your heart.  Our Lady was silent, even at the Cross.”  Rest in silence.  Rest in His most Sacred Heart.  For “our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.” {St. Augustine}

Embrace the tension of the day.  Let the uncomfortable silence bring you comfort and peace.  If you sit in it long enough, it will. 

Amen, friends. In in that "seemingly impossible" place right now. My Easter prayer is that the hope of the Gospel will soften my heart. God is waiting for me, I just need to let him in.