Holy Saturday, and my hands are empty. I have nothing to cling to, no one to hide behind, and no mask to wear. Our friend, our teacher, our Lord has been buried… the one who brought us together is gone. We know because we held his lifeless body, we wiped away the stains of blood, we wrapped him in linens, and we laid him in a tomb.
It was a day that put everything in perspective… who else could I pretend to be? I cannot be phony. I must be authentic, genuine, and honest. Nothing else matters, nothing else lasts.
If I believe that I am fearfully made, then I know that Jesus died for a reason — he believes me to be wonderfully, awesomely, uniquely created. He thinks his torture and death is worth trading that I might not be lost forever. He thinks I’m that wonderful.
If I believe that every word Jesus said was true, this day is a day of waiting. It is a day of fearlessly trusting — what he has prophesied will come true. He said he would return, rebuild the temple, not leave us alone, come in glory, be seated with the Father. Everything he said is waiting to be fulfilled.
He is honest, He is Truth, He is faithful, and He will make all things new.
We wait, we trust, and we hope.
For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare, not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope.
When you call me, when you go to pray to me, I will listen to you. When you look for me, you will find me. Yes, when you seek me with all your heart, you will find me with you, says the LORD, and I will change your lot.
— Jeremiah 29:11-14