The maker of the stars would rather die for you than live without you. Max Lucado

Only silence could be heard from the tomb but they hadn’t long to wait. It was Saturday of Holy Week. The Last Supper had been served, the betrayal was complete, the suffering of the cross had ended and the body was buried quickly in honor of the Sabbath. Yet only silence is heard. There are no accounts of how the mourners spent that day or of the crowds that had surrounded Jesus before his death. We don’t know how they spent Holy Saturday. It’s a day that seems lost to time.

I wonder where we would have found Barabbas on a Saturday he didn’t expect to see. Did he wonder about the man who died in his place? Did he ever realize what had happened on that day or did he continue his life of crime?

Where did Mary Magdalene and Jesus’ mother, Mary, go to mourn, and did they seek solitude or comfort one another?

What of the disciples? Did they begin to realize the impact of Jesus’ gift to all mankind or did they secretly gather in groups to share their doubts and questions? They’d been at his side for three years when he accepted that cross, yet they still knew so little of who he really was.

I put all my hope in the Lord. He leaned down to me; he listened to my cry for help. He lifted me out of the pit of death, out of the mud and filth, and set my feet on solid rock. He steadied my legs. Psalm 40:1-2

For years, my husband has wondered about what Jesus was doing in the tomb. He has spent a fair amount of time contemplating the possibilities. Was he pacing with the anxiety of the coming day when he would rise again? Was he busy planning a huge celebration? Was he resting to regain his strength from the unimaginable rigors of the torture and crucifixion? Like everything about Holy Saturday, we will be left contemplating.

Instead of questioning the happenings in Jesus’ day, perhaps we would do well to use that time to search deeply within ourselves. Holy Week is a potpourri of emotions, ranging from exhilaration to despair and then to forgiveness and unending hope. Saturday is a quiet time to breathe, inhale the stillness and accept the gift offered to each of us. We didn’t earn it and we certainly don’t deserve it, but it’s ours. Breathe deeply in the scent of the living Jesus. Let Him illumine your candle to light our dark world.

There is treasure to be found in the sacred space that comes as you breathe in that place of quiet surrender. Don’t rush through the space called “Between.” Katherine Walden

Over the years of my life, it seems more often than not that winter doesn’t begin to release its hold and give way to spring until we endure the pain of the cross. If all is right in our world, Easter should dawn brilliantly to usher in the newness of spring because the resurrection has come. But here’s the thing: we must accept the pain and promise of the cross before springtime can enter our hearts. Have we truly come to grips with the significance of the cross?

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. And the life that I now live in my body, I live by faith, indeed, by the faithfulness of God’s Son, who loved me and gave himself for me. Galatians 2:20

Carry the cross for Him this week and rest in the quiet peace of Saturday so you’ll be ready for the celebration of a glorious Easter! Happy Easter, everyone!