Not So Silent Saturday

 Stop,

and acknowledge that 

I am God.

Psalm 46:10

Photo Credit:

Seal on Jesus' Tomb

"Be still," it is commonly rendered, "and know that I am God."  And we put it on posters with images of solitude and peace, as an invitation to come away from the noise of our lives to sit lovely with a cup of tea, and a journal on our lap.  And, all by itself, it works as a good reminder to do just that.

But this morning is Holy Saturday.  Silent Saturday.  When everything stood still, and everything raged at the same time.

And in step with the full context of Psalm 46, where God is described as a Divine Warrior that directs His attention to the termination of wars and destruction, I don't think it's a stretch to hear Him make this declaration over the crucified body of His Son.

Behind the seal of a human empire lies the One who will bring all empires to submit to ultimate shalom.  The Kingdom of God can be described as a state where the perfect will of God is being perpetually carried out.  And that Kingdom is going to win this.

"He breaks the bow and snaps the spear, and burns shields in fire," are the promises in verse 9, just before the more famous verse 10.  And just before that, in verse 8, wars are 'terminated.'  

I need this today, on this Saturday in between.

This reminder that, ultimately, no human leader reigns supreme; that wars are not okay with God (1) and He exercises His authority to end them; that what looks like defeat is often just the beginning of something spectacular. 

This morning, though, as I gradually became awake, and aware of what day this was, His words were more that of a Shepherd than a Warrior, although truth be told I need Him to be both on my behalf.  But today it was in the unrushing sound of rain, keeping me in bed just a little longer, hearing Him speak it to me, just me, in that way He does with us.  The thoughts form, and turn towards me, gently.

"Stop, be still, cease striving.  

All the things that are uncertain for you right now, the things you want to fix but can't, are certainly and silently working for the better story you are writing with Me about you right now.  

And while you are a cherished daughter, and the object of all I can offer, really, Dear Heart, this is about so much more than just you.  

What looks like the final word, a Roman seal on a tomb, is really Heaven holding its breath for what comes next.  

And I will be with you, always.  Always."

And I will wait for this.

(1) For a thorough discussion on God's attitude towards violence, see Bloody, Brutal, and Barbaric? Wrestling with Troubling War Texts, by William J. Webb and Gordon K. Oeste, Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2019.