Oh this day.
This Holy Saturday.
This liminal place.
This not then and not yet
we somehow find ourselves in… again.
It’s the place of waiting and wondering and weeping,
of grief and anger,
of denial and distrust,
of fear and frustration.
It’s dark and still.
And yet – it’s familiar.
It’s where we find ourselves all the time.
As we wait for answers.
As we grieve.
As we wait for promises to be kept.
Oh we wait.
Sometimes it feels like that’s all we do.
So this day, this Holy Saturday, we wait for what feels like the longest day.
But Holy Saturday is also the place where hope is born.
In the darkest day,
In the longest wait,
In the painful peace,
We hear just one
from the very heart of this day:
Sunday is coming.
And that’s enough light to make it through this day.