The Grave

Lord, I’m not sure what to think or how to pray on Holy Saturday. You are dead. Your tomb is sealed. There are no easy answers. The world feels darker and more desperate than ever before.

Pause and pray

In today’s reading, I wait and watch with those who were faithful to Jesus, even in His death.

Read: Luke 23:50–56

It’s the Sabbath. The day on which God rests from the work of creation has become the day on which He rests in the grave from the work of recreation. I imagine the smell of those spices and perfumes prepared by the women filling their house all day. I imagine their many tears. Their hushed conversations. Their attempts to pray.

Lord, teach me to rest. I don’t find this easy. Not just to rest physically from work, but psychologically and spiritually from my need for easy answers, instant miracles and immediate resolution. Like a child with a fever, half-asleep in my father’s arms, help me to trust even when I cannot understand.

Pause and pray

Lord, the smell of Your burial spices seems to fill our entire world right now. There is death and despair everywhere. I remember before You now those known to me who are weeping and waiting for a miracle. Those people in our world who have given up hope.

Pause and pray

Lord, I live so much of my life on Holy Saturday: somewhere between the cross and the resurrection. I can’t deny what You’ve done for me, but I am waiting for so much more. I know that You’re the answer, but I still have so many questions. I’m deeply aware of the work You’ve begun in my life, but impatient for its completion. Today I surrender to Your apparent slowness. In the absence of easy answers and instant miracles, teach me to wait with those faithful women who attended to Your body, to trust when everything seems hopeless, and to pray.
Amen.