the silence in between

After Christ cried out, It is finished! I believe silence echoed throughout the heavenly realms.


What does it sound like when silence echoes?

It sounds like a lonely heartbeat pulsating against my chest, trying to escape.
It sounds like hollowness pounding quietude onto the drum of my ears.

It sounds like the forgotten whisper of the wind that has already blown past.

It sounds like a feather falling silently to the ground.

It sounds like a still lake upon which rests the moonlight.

It sounds like the sun, shining its rays of light on my face.


Silence can be deafening.  Or silence can be restful.


The day that Jesus died, silence could be heard.  That means that there was a powerful message that was spoken through that silence.  For some it was a message of confusion, of doubt, of searching.  For others it was a message of defeat and devastation.  But for God, it was a message of a well-deserved rest.

I choose to believe that the plan of salvation was established even before the dawn of our earth.  As soon as sin entered our world, the plan went into motion.  The plan to preserve Jesus' lineage.  The plan to prophesy the Word.  The plan to guide God's chosen people into receiving the prepared salvation.  So much work to do!  So much preparation.  So much shepherding and redirecting.  That plan was all heaven could talk about for thousands of years.

Yet on that cross, upon Jesus' final words, It is finished, the plan could finally rest.  Heaven could rest.

Imagine a wedding coordinator, working tirelessly to prepare every detail of a high-profile marriage, extinguishing every figurative fire, and working herself into exhaustion to make sure that the wedding will be flawless.  After the bride and groom depart the celebration, I would expect the coordinator to collapse into a chair and just rest for a while.  The exhaustion could melt away into relief because all the pieces of the puzzle fit perfectly.

I imagine that heaven might have felt a little bit like that too.

The silence that lingered in between Jesus' final words as a Lamb, and the angel's first words by the empty tomb, ushered in a new chapter of earth's history.  It would be a chapter outlined in victory and anticipation.

But the silence in between....

It was the first time in all of eternity that the Trinity was broken.  I do not believe Jesus visited Heaven on that Sabbath day.  I believe He stayed in the tomb, separated from His Father and His Holy Spirit.  It wasn't until Sunday that He went to see His Father, just as it is stated in the Bible.  But then that would mean that the Trinity was - if only for a few hours - only a Duo.  I don't understand that.  It sounds too quiet.  If I was an angel in heaven, I wouldn't even know what to say.  I would remain silent.

I wonder how much silence Heaven experienced that restful Sabbath day.  I wish I could get a glimpse into those moments.


Tonight I experienced an incredible Good Friday program, served in powerful silence.  It was in that silence, through the reading of the John's account of Jesus' final hours, that I could hear with more clarity.  I could hear the fear in Pilate's voice, the authority in Jesus' responses.  I could hear the crack of the whip inflicted on Jesus' work-worn body.  I could hear His groans of pain as He willfully suffered at the hands of those He had created.  I could hear the venom and evil as they cried, "Crucify Him!"  I could hear the nails being pounded into wood, with flesh in between.

I couldn't stop the noise.  I couldn't get away from how loud it all was.  I couldn't stop crying as I witnessed this event, anew, within the solitude of my own heart.  It all seemed so real and the images of my Savior and Lover, being abused in such an offensive manner, broke my heart into a million pieces.  As a mother, the thought of my children suffering physical and emotional pain is heart-rending.  I couldn't bear the knowledge of such things happening.  And how much more devastating it is for me to remember what Jesus suffered on my account and on the accounts of every other person on this earth.  Jesus.  The One who didn't deserve to suffer.  The only One who was justified to hate yet was so filled with love, instead.  Jesus.  The One who held children in His open arms.  The One who's exhausted hands tenderly touched the bodies and hearts of the unclean.  Jesus.  The One who's back bent down to help others stand.  The One who lived to serve us His love.  How can I listen to the stories of His suffering and not feel a devastating pain in my heart?

As I drove home from the service, in silence, I saw many people out and about, doing their thing, talking to friends, washing their cars.  And my heart suddenly screamed out, Do you even know what we're commemorating today?  Do you know what Jesus did for you?  So many of you are standing around, living your life in ignorance of the most divine gift that was ever given to you.  You don't even see it, do you?  How I wish you could see and understand!  How I wish you would turn your eyes towards Heaven and see the One who is waiting for you with open arms.  Ugh!  Look at all these people.  So many of them have NO idea.  

I entered my home in silence.  My throat seemed parched and my cheeks were stained from the salty tears that wouldn't seem to stop even after the service ended.  I took in a deep breath and looked around my house while I acknowledged the silence.  No appliances were running.  The lights were off, except for two indirect lamps.  The cat was resting.  Even the parakeets were silent, with their heads tucked into their feathers.  I soaked up the silence.  And I finally felt like I could rest a bit.


If you've never been to a silent service before, you may not understand my emotional response to it. I certainly didn't anticipate it.  I don't even know if silent services are a thing.  But I can tell you that it spoke, powerfully, to the heart and to the sympathetic emotions of my soul.  It translated familiar stories into awe-inspiring and startling messages of truth that pounded their foundations into my very core.  And I walked away moved, impacted...changed.

I believe Heaven experienced a silent service that Friday and Saturday too.  And in the meantime, their hearts prepared for the celebration that would explode throughout all of Heaven on the following Sunday morning.  That's what I'm looking forward to next...


Happy Sabbath day of rest to all of you.