Author: Sallie Ross
The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?
It really is a day of emptiness—a silent Saturday. I can only imagine the hearts and the minds of the disciples on this day of silence, the heart and mind of the Lord’s mother and all whose lives had been touched, healed, turned inside-out.
I can only imagine that every word Jesus had spoken would have been remembered and mulled over with amazing attentiveness. What had He really meant? Was there more? Did we miss something? Wasn’t it real?
But the day remained a silent Saturday. We read in the gospels that they observed the Sabbath that day; the lack of work would have made for a more accentuated, more excruciating silence.
We have all had those silent Saturdays. That day, those days, those months when it seemed as though God was silent; When we have been thrown from the path we were on without explanation–feeling abandoned and feeling that perhaps this pilgrimage was never worth it from the beginning.
Doubt becomes a taunting companion and the silence remains.
Sometimes God gives us others with whom to sit in the silence; sometimes we must sit alone. Alone except for what we read in this verse: “The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.” Felt or not felt, known or unknown; this is our truth.
And while we so long for closure to this heart of uncertainty, we will not be able to determine the time.
Our choice on this day, be it a day or longer, is to turn to the One who is with us and to remain.
–Lord God, I am terrified of this kind of silence, save that you are with me. Let me remain in the silence this day–if not my own, then on the behalf of my brothers and sisters who are truly in such a season. That I may keep watch for them, for the rising of the Son. . .