Silent Saturday

This year, I was listening to a Holy Week reading plan where the speaker read all the verses from the Bible associated with each specific day of this week looking to Easter.  Every day had something except for Saturday.  On that Saturday between Good Friday, the day Jesus died, and Easter Sunday, the day He arose, Scripture is silent. 

Though it’s not recorded in Scripture, I can only imagine what life and conversation was like among the disciples and followers of Christ who grieved the loss of One whom they loved and gave everything to follow…now what? The whispers around town and the unsurety of where to go from here.

This season for me has felt like a Silent Saturday.  Whispers and wrestling go on in my head but I wonder, where have You been?  Why can’t I hear You?  Will this darkness ever end and You bring light again?  Will I always slog through grief and wondering where to go from here?  I’ve followed Your lead so far but now the road ahead looks so unclear.  In Nehemiah it says that “the joy of the Lord is my strength,” but Lord, I feel neither joy nor strength.  I feel worn of trying to cling to Truth while battling relentless lies.   Where is Your salvation for these dark days?

So on this Silent Saturday, I will cling to the hope of Your presence.  That redemption is coming.  That You can make even this ugly mess, beautiful in time. 

Skeletons in the Closet

I shuffled down the hallway,

Unlocked the bedroom door,

Inspected the closet,

Disheveled items all over the floor.



For a long time this was on lock down,

But recently I ripped the door of its hinge,

If you want to get rid of the skeletons,

You have to breathe life on them again.



Shine the light on the dark corners,

Confront the webs of strife,

In order to fully deal with the past,

Those dry bones must come to life.



So I continue to hunt the spider,

I’ve grown more comfortable with an opened can of worms,

Because though it continues to be a process,

I want to find healing and live life on my own terms.



God, shine a light on the darkness,

Though I am only a jar of clay,

I pray that You mold me and shape me,

So that not only will healing be mine, but put You on display.

Joy Lynn