I know, Easter is over, and you’ve moved on to other things. Will you indulge me?

It was through Easter that God made this point, but it leads to other things. Here’s how it’s evolved in my Missionary Baptist-Southern Baptist-contemporary Baptist-conservative evangelical-I-don’t-want-to-be-typical life.

As a little girl, Easter was the most special Sunday celebrating the risen Lord. I was always excited to wear new clothes; because God gave His very best, we present to Him our very best. As a young mom of three daughters, I made sure they had the cutest matching dresses (yes, I finished sewing them sometime during the wee hours of Saturday night…but they were really cute!) And we made sure those girls knew the true biblical meaning of Easter, while we played the games of secular culture (think: egg hunts, Easter bunny). I wanted  balance in their lives.

As an Empty Nester, branching out from the Baptist roots, God broadened my perspective through Lent, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday, in addition to Resurrection Sunday. Nowadays my Easter experience has expanded to several weeks, not just one weekend.

Did you notice there’s a day missing in the daily list above? That’s where God took me this 64th year. He showed me Saturday. I’ve never thought much about Saturday. For Jesus’ Jewish friends, Saturday was Sabbath, so not much went on that day. The gospels gloss over Saturday in just a sentence.

But last week, Friday afternoon took me to Saturday. While finishing some last-minute tasks in the office, a notification displayed across my phone about a Good Friday service. I follow this particular church online, and what caught my attention was their plans to observe communion during this Good Friday service.

Having considered Jesus’s Friday of persecution and crucifixion, I was immediately drawn to remembering His body broken for me and His blood shed for me. I gathered a cracker and a drink, went to the back porch to be alone, and shared in online communion, remembering Jesus and His sacrifice for me.

In the quiet of my back porch, I thought about Saturday, how silent it must have felt for those who loved Jesus. They could not change the silence, because by God’s Law, they could not do anything on Sabbath.

Sabbath was sacred. Sabbath was quiet, Sabbath was rest, Sabbath was free of work. Not even would they visit the tomb on Sabbath in order to prepare Jesus’ body for burial. Preparation would have to wait until Sunday, the day after Sabbath.

So Saturday was a silent day, as far as work and activity. There must be some value in silence.

But the Sabbath of Easter, the day between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday: So. Much. Silence. How difficult that day must have been. How sad they must have felt. Their hopes of Messiah were halted. Their dreams of God saving their nation were dashed. Silence.

I know I’m preaching to the choir here when I remind you they failed to see on Saturday what God had promised for Sunday. That’s where the silence comes in. Sometimes God lets us sit in silence.

As Jesus’ friends and family experienced, God is active even in silence. Even in silence, God is busy implementing His plans and promises. He’s the One who said, “I’m going to do a new thing…” (Isaiah 42:9; 43:19; 48:6)

But I’m not talking about the silence of God. What God taught me on my 64th Easter was about silencing myself so that I can hear from Him. This is the flip side to the silence of God.

Yes, sometimes life feels like God is silent. Yes, sometimes we have to wait to determine His direction. But all the time, we must be listening in order to hear his voice in our hearts.

For a biblical example, take a look at David in 1 Chronicles 17:16 ff. “Then King David went in and sat before the Lord…” David intentionally sets everything aside, postures himself to hear, asking questions of God and listening for understanding. Jesus practiced silence too, but for him it took the form of going up into the mountains (John 6:15). There seems to be valuable treasure in the nothingness of silence. We hear from God in the silence.

I never valued silence until about ten years ago. Christian Disciplines was a required course for my seminary degree, and silence was a discipline we were assigned to practice during that course of study. I was forced to learn it, but the learning evolved into loving. Silence changed my life. It doesn’t come naturally; it’s definitely a scheduled discipline for me! And discipline can be painful at the time. Sometimes discipline makes me cry like a baby. Have you noticed that, when you sit and cry before the Lord, He soothes your crying? When you take your laughter before the Lord, He shares in the joy? When you sit with a question, He provides answers?

In two days, I’ll be posting “How Silence Changed Everything for Me”. But for today, let’s have a conversation in the comments below:

• If you have practiced silence, what has been your greatest benefit? In what ways have you struggled? What changes have you noticed in your friendship with Jesus?
• If silence is a new concept for you, what intrigues you most? What questions arise in your mind as you consider practicing silence?