Between Despair & Hope
Holy Saturday is the day between the death of Jesus on Good Friday, and His resurrection on Easter Sunday.
It serves as a potent reminder of just how difficult it can be to exist in the in-between spaces of life of what was and what we hope will be. Often referred to as a liminal space, it’s here that fear and hope battle it out within our hearts.
Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus following Jesus death, they described the situation to a stranger, “we had hoped that he was the one that was going to redeem Israel.”
How often have I said those same words around the pain of disappointment? I had hoped that things would have worked out differently… that I hadn’t lost that job, lost that relationship, or had made a different choice.
Psalm 77 beautifully reflects the paradox of holding our pain and disappointment in one hand and our hope for a better future in the other.
I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me. When I was in distress, I sought the Lord; at night I stretched out untiring hands, and I would not be comforted. I remembered you, God, and I groaned; I meditated, and my spirit grew faint… Will the Lord reject forever? Will he never show his favor again?
- Psalms 77:1-3; 7
Holy Saturday is a space where we are reminded not to move too quickly to the celebration of Easter. It’s here that we level with God about the reality of our pain and all of those places that we had “hoped that he was the one” who would redeem.
So often in our Christian faith we are encouraged to somehow pray away our pain, but this fails to bring healing. What God desires is that we’d invite Him into our pain, sharing the full strength of our fury, despair, and sadness. It is absolutely necessary for us to sit in the uncomfortable disappointment that results between our expectations and reality, and it’s not until we are willing to go to that place with Jesus that we can begin to metabolize our grief.
So how does the author of Psalm 77 keep from spiraling into hopelessness? How does Asaph, who penned this Psalm, maintain buoyancy without shortchanging his pain? We see this shift in verse 10:
Then I thought, “To this I will appeal: the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand. I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”
- Psalms 77:10-12
The way we keep from losing hope is by remembering God’s faithfulness to us in the past. When our past disappointments tango with our hopes for the future, we can find solid ground to stand on by recounting the ways God has used things in our past, even horrible or painful things, to bring about good.
What Asaph offers us here in this Psalm isn’t a cheap fix or an oversimplified answer. What this Psalm offers us is a ripcord to a parachute when the circumstances of our lives leave us falling into a tailspin.
The invitation before us today, on Holy Saturday, is to do the uncomfortable work of sitting in our pain - feeling it fully - acknowledging and wrestling with the implications. But we do not lose hope… how? Because God can take things that are dead and breathe new life back into them.
As you consider your own faith journey, where are those places that you sense wrestling? Don’t be too quick to gloss over or pray away those painful areas. Invite Jesus into your pain, and find hope for tomorrow by remembering His faithfulness to you in the past.
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