This season of Lent, of preparation for Easter, has been an especially meaningful one for me this year. We have delved into the meaning and practices of Lent and of the Jewish Passover during our home school. I personally have been doing various Scripture reading programs on my own to prepare my heart as well. I think all this *focus* has made me more sensitive to seeing His story played out all around me everyday, and seeing new significance in little things.
First, I began pondering His wounds. His hands and feet. Is there perhaps some significance there? What does the Bible say about hands and feet? About His and about ours? What do you use our hands for? Well, quite honestly, we use them to sin. Many of the ten commandments require the use of our hands to break them. Commandment Two- Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image. Thou shalt not "make". Making involves our hands, as well as our hearts. Even if we make something an idol in our hearts, we usually act out our *worship* with our actions, our hands. Remembering the Sabbath and keeping it holy? When we don't, we are usually *working* with our hands. Stealing, murdering, adultery.....all involve our hands. And what about our feet? Let's not leave them out! They take us to the place of sin. We could use them to "flee every appearance of evil", but we do not always do that. Maybe having HIS hands and feet pierced for us, as he paid for the sins of OUR hands and feet is quite symbolic. And after the resurrection, Jesus sent the disciples out to spread the Good News to the world. We are to be His HANDS and FEET. Being His hands suggests that we are to minister, serve as He would. Being His feet means taking the Gospel to people around the world (and in our own backyards) that need Him. Since His hands and feet were pierced, we need to be His body now.
Second, I started to think about Saturday. Saturday was silent. SILENT. No answer, no movement, no hope coming from the Lord. I understand how that can feel. So many of us have had deep, intense times of personal struggle when we simply do not hear from God.
Some of you know my story. I had a history of struggling with eating disorders before I got married and had my first child. I was not aware that that made me a prime candidate for postpartum depression. Well, let's just say it hit me hard. SLAM. I was thrown into the deepest pit of my life. I could not scrape my way out. I prayed until I could not find anymore words. I slept holding my Bible, crying out to God for help. I felt like David in the Psalms when he cries out continually with no response from the Lord. Why was He silent. Why wouldn't He rescue me? Why was I being given "too much to handle"? Well, here is the thing: He DOES give us too much too handle, because that is when we are FORCED to turn to Him. I would also learn to trust in Him even when I couldn't *feel* Him. That was "my Saturday".
In one of my readings this Lent, I read that "we would like to have death and resurrection put together within one hour of each other. We cannot face the thought that God will keep us aside for so long a time; we cannot bear to wait. All is darkness, but it is only for a night, a full night. Afterwards you will find that everything is given back to you in glorious resurrection..." Oh, that night (series of many nights in my case)is hard. It is silent. Just like that Saturday when Jesus was in the grave. But, SUNDAY came! You can't get to Sunday without having Saturday! And I praise God for my Saturday, because it did teach me to trust in Him, no matter what.
When my Sunday came, and the resurrection of my spirit was given, He restored my joy and turned my mourning into dancing! He gave me FIVE more children after that, when I thought I would never be able to have anymore. I have been completely healed, with no touch of postpartum at all! He restored the years the locust had eaten. Praise the Lord!
So, during this silent Saturday, remember that Sunday is coming! All will be made new and be restored!
Happy Easter!
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