To Sense the Saturday

Today is Saturday. In my family it is a typical day of morning household chores and family time together.  But today is a different Saturday. It is a day of in between.


I found myself wondering this morning, what it must have been like so many years ago. After having watched the man you loved, and had committed to follow, be taken in such a violent way. What did they think, those early believers? How did they feel? They had been given a promise, but how unfathomable it must have sounded in that moment, on that Saturday. They had seen others rise from the dead, but only under His power. How could those few, faithful followers have been able to even imagine the concept of resurrection?

Hope is a unique word. It is simple to have hope in something you understand or experience. I hope the sun will rise each morning, but I do not question it. I have seen it happen every day for forty years. But to hope in something that makes no sense, carries no logic, and yet is promised, is much more challenging to the soul.

“Peace I leave with you. My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27) Words given to His disciples just hours before He left them. How did His peace permeate the tragedies that followed? How did they hold to hope, on Saturday?

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught that, “Hope has the power to fill our lives with happiness.” ("The Infinite Power of Hope", October 2008, General Conference) How does hope have power? Hope in the midst of tragedy centers us, it grounds us and fixes us in doctrine. The disciples had been taught clearly, by the Master Himself, that He would rise again. They knew and understood the truth. And yet. And yet they had to cling to that teaching when everything around them seemed to counter that truth. They had no evidence, no proof that He would return – only a promise. A promise and an injunction to hope.

I love the symbols of springtime, as life reawakens all around me. I love the first sign of the crocus, the vibrant colors of tulips and daffodils, the gentle buds returning to the trees.  All contain a promise, a promise of hope.

But in the Saturdays, sometimes we wonder. We wonder if the promises will hold true. We find ourselves in the in between, mired in the memories of tragedy and pain. We want to believe. We want to hold to the promises, but they are yet unseen. They require hope. Hope in the seemingly impossible. Hope in the unknown. Hope in the promise of peace, His peace.

“The things we hope in sustain us during our daily walk,” President Uchtdorf continues. “They uphold us through trials, temptations, and sorrow.  Everyone has experienced discouragement and difficulty. Indeed, there are times when the darkness may seem unbearable. It is in these times that the divine principles of the restored gospel we hope in can uphold us and carry us until, once again, we walk in the light.” ("The Infinite Power of Hope", October 2008, General Conference)

So if you find yourself, today, in the sorrow of a Saturday, know that you are not alone. Some of the most faithful disciples to ever live found themselves seated and sorrowing and somber in their own sightless Saturday. Take a moment to look around you. See the ray of sunshine peeking in over a cloud, feel the promise held within a blossoming bud, or touch the tips of a tulip petal. All hold the seeds of promise. All hold life within them. All contain hope.

Trust that what is dark now, will one day dissipate. Perhaps in a promised day of resolution, or maybe it will simply fade in the brightness of emerging hope. Trust the promise - the light will come.

"Because God has been faithful and kept His promises in the past, we can hope with confidence that God will keep His promises to us in the present and in the future.” (Uchtdorf, "The Infinite Power of Hope", October 2008, General Conference)

And today… today, my friend, if you simply need to sit in the sorrow of your Saturday, let me sit with you. Listen to this music for a Saturday. We will wait and watch together, holding fast to the promise of His peace, waiting for the flowers to emerge, trusting in the power of hope and the promise of a Sunday. You are not alone.