The Silence of Saturday

“Resurrection is not a deadline — it’s a promise. And sometimes that promise unfolds slowly.”

Sometimes life leaves us in that strange, quiet space between what has been lost and what has not yet been restored. It’s the place where grief settles in, where prayers feel like they go unanswered, where the future looks blank and the heart feels tired. We don’t always know how to talk about that space. We’d rather skip to the good news, to the healing, to the resolution. But the truth is, God does some of God’s most faithful work right there — in the waiting, in the wondering, in the silence.

Because even when we cannot see it, grace is already moving. Long before we recognize it, God is rolling stones away we didn’t even know could move. Resurrection doesn’t depend on our readiness. It doesn’t arrive on our timetable. It unfolds in its own time — slowly sometimes, quietly often — but surely. The love of God does not leave us in the tomb. And it does not leave us in our sorrow. The story isn’t over — even when it feels like the end.

So we hold space for one another in the in-between. We weep with those who weep. We sit beside those still carrying their grief. And all the while, we whisper the truest thing we know — that God is not finished. That love is stronger than death. That hope rises — not because we force it to — but because Christ is alive, and the Spirit is still breathing life into the most unlikely places. Resurrection is real. And it’s coming for us, too.