Holy Saturday — Freaking Out

What could this day have been like?

Our teacher has been killed. We’re in shock. No clear path forward. No clue what to do next. We’re just... here, trying to process a new reality that nobody wanted.

Perspective

I woke up pretty early on one Holy Saturday. The house was quiet. It was still dark out — no sunrise yet — just me and God. And honestly, that silence made me wonder what that Saturday must have felt like for the disciples.

The sound of life gone quiet. No answers. Just questions.

“Why is it this way?”

“Why did it have to happen like this?”

“What do I even do now?”

As I reflected on those questions, my mind turned to things I’ve walked through — the losses, the letdowns, the stuff I never saw coming. And it gave me a glimpse, just a sliver, of what the disciples must’ve felt with Jesus now sealed in a tomb. After three years of following Him… it’s suddenly over?

Have you ever been blindsided by change? Something in life flips upside down, and you

have no idea why? You can’t even explain how you feel about it, because the feelings don’t line up. It just... hurts. And it’s different now.

I’ve been there more than a few times. And each time, that little whisper of fear shows up.

What now?

Can I move forward?

Will I ever feel okay again?

Now picture being one of the 11 remaining apostles on that first Holy Saturday. You walk outside and some well-meaning person asks, “So... where’s your Messiah now?” or “How are you holding up?”

And you’re like, really? You think I have a soundbite ready for this?

People often mean well... but sometimes it feels like they just want a status update. They don’t really want to carry it with you. They want to feel like they care. But when you’re in it — deep in the grief, the fear, the “what just happened?” — even the kindest words can land wrong.

Because honestly, it’s your thing to carry. And it’s messy. And complicated. And they’re not gonna fix it.

We all walk through things others can’t understand. Maybe it’s a new “normal” we never asked for. Maybe it’s grief, or regret, or shame, or just confusion. People try to be helpful — but sometimes, the best thing they could say is… nothing. Just be there. No silver linings, no pep talks. Just presence.

It’s hard, because even when we’re trying to be there for someone, it’s awkward. We all want to say the right thing, and sometimes we say too much. But here’s what I’ve learned...

Even if I don’t understand what someone’s going through, that doesn’t mean it’s not understandable. And even if no one gets what I’m walking through, God does.

So yeah… maybe you’re like me. You’ve been blindsided. Life looks different. You didn’t see it coming, and now you’re just kinda freaking out.

So what do we do?

For me, it always starts with prayer. But here’s the truth — even then, I often don’t pray the right way at first. I want to fix it. I want understanding. I want to know the why.

But eventually… I remember what I’m actually supposed to do.

Surrender.

I have to give it to God. All of it. Not just the pain, but the control. The desire to make sense of it. I have to trust that the God who sees all, knows all, loves me, and will lead me through it.

That’s not easy. Not even close.

I mean, imagine watching Jesus be beaten, scourged, nailed to a cross. Can you even begin to guess that Sunday’s coming? That you’ll have breakfast with Him again? That He’ll speak peace to your fears? That He’ll rise from the dead and prove it was always going to be okay?

Nobody saw that coming.

And yet… it came.

Resurrection was the ultimate reminder that even the most painful “why” has a divine “because.”

So when I think about the brutality of the crucifixion, I can’t help but see myself in it. My sin. My distrust. My stubbornness. When the nails went in, that was me — wanting control. When the crown was forced down, that was me — pretending I follow Jesus while still doing things my way.

Holy Saturday is the freak-out day before the miracle.

It’s the pause before the promise. The silence before the shout.

And yeah… Easter is amazing. It’s the victory. It’s the hope.

But don’t skip the in-between. Don’t rush past the heartbreak. Because without the sorrow, the joy wouldn’t hit the same.

God’s process doesn’t always look good. But the outcomes? Well … they are beyond anything we could ever imagine.

Prayer

Heavenly Father, I still don’t fully understand why Jesus had to suffer the way He did. I’m so sorry for my sins and my failures to trust You completely. I’m sorry for the moments I chose control instead of surrender. Help me be strong in Your purpose. Help me live beyond the distractions and discouragements that pull me away from You. Teach me to give You the things I don’t understand, and trust that You’ll work it out — in Your way, in Your time.

Thank You for Jesus… and for every story in the Bible that reminds us what it looks like to walk through Your process. Thank You for Easter… for resurrection… and for showing us what new life really means. I pray in the name of Jesus, my Savior and Lord. Amen.