Silent Saturday

They Rested.

We call today Silent Saturday, but as I was reading this morning, I realized—maybe it wasn’t as silent as we thought.

The Jesus followers had just witnessed the violent death of their Savior. Their hopes and dreams died too. Everything they believed would happen… was suddenly shattered.

We call this day silent because there isn’t a minute-by-minute account of what they did. We call it silent because we can’t see behind the veil of what Jesus was doing. But Scripture tells us exactly what they did:

They rested.

They obeyed the command of the Sabbath and did the only thing they knew to do. Rest.

Maybe you’re like me today. Tired. Maybe you even cried yourself to sleep last night, overwhelmed by things too heavy to carry… things you can’t make sense of. My Friday—maybe yours too—looked like loss. Loss of family. Loss of dreams. Death, in its many forms, played out before me like I was watching a bad Broadway play.

And this morning? I woke up to silence. That familiar, aching stillness of not knowing what to do next. Maybe you did too. Maybe you’re sitting in your own Silent Saturday—unsure of what to say, where to go, or how to move forward.

If the silence feels deafening, I invite you to reread Luke 23:56:

"They rested."

The Sabbath is a gift. It is a command of importance. It is an invitation to stop striving, worrying, stressing…and just be. It offers to let the Lord order your steps… to trust that He is still working behind the scenes even when you can’t see it.

It isn’t silent. It speaks loudly: Reclining in the presence of your Savior is enough today. No work is required. No words. No striving.

Just rest.

And know.

I’m praying for you today—that sweet, holy rest would meet you in your waiting.

Sunday is coming. 💜