“But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8
Have you ever lived in a moment that felt… unfinished? Not broken. Not completely lost.
Just… in between. This week, as Resurrection Sabbath arrives, I find myself sitting in that space, not at the cross, and not yet at the empty tomb. But somewhere in between what has happened and what is still unfolding.
After the crucifixion of Jesus, there was a Sabbath. A quiet one. Scripture tells us that the women who loved Him “rested the Sabbath day according to the commandment” (Luke 23:56). That detail has been resting on my heart. Because how do you rest when everything in you feels unsettled? How do you pause when what you believed in appears to have ended? When the promise you held feels sealed behind a stone? Yet, they rested.
I think about Mary Magdalene. She stood at the cross. She witnessed the loss. She felt the weight of what seemed final. Then came the Sabbath. No answers. No movement.
No visible sign that anything was about to change. Just… silence.
That is the part we don’t always talk about. I have known that kind of Sabbath. Moments when something in my life shifted, a season closed, a certainty unraveled, a sense of control slipped through my hands and I found myself waiting. Still moving on the outside, still showing up where I was needed, but inwardly sitting with questions I didn’t always say out loud: What now, Lord? What does this mean? Is there more beyond this moment?
What I am learning is this: the Sabbath was never empty. It was full of unseen work. While everything appeared still, God was preparing resurrection. While grief rested, purpose had not stopped breathing. While the story looked finished, heaven was still writing. Then… morning came.
Mary returned to the tomb, not with clarity, but with love. Not with answers, but with devotion. And what she discovered changed everything. The stone was rolled away.
The grave was empty. The One she thought she lost… was alive.
That moment speaks to me deeply. It reminds me that what feels like an ending in my life may actually be a pause.......a sacred space where God is still at work beyond what I can see. Christ didn’t just die so I could live. He showed me how to trust God in the in-between. To rest when I don’t understand. To believe when I cannot see. To hold onto purpose, even when it feels delayed.
My life is not shaped only by resurrection moments, the victories, the clarity, the answered prayers. It is also formed in the Sabbaths. The quiet seasons. The waiting spaces where faith takes root beneath the surface. So this Resurrection Sabbath, I hold both truths gently: The cross reminds me I am loved. The resurrection reminds me I am called. But the Sabbath in between… teaches me how to trust.
That is the invitation for all of us. Not just to celebrate that He rose but to recognize where we are still waiting. To trust that even now, God is preparing something greater than we can see. Because He rose, I no longer fear the in-between seasons of my life. What feels like stillness is not absence, it is preparation. And in knowing that, I choose to rest. I choose to trust. I choose to become… one grace-filled step at a time.
Pearl’s Prayer
Lord, thank You for the cross, for the Sabbath, and for the resurrection. Thank You for reminding me that even in the silence, You are still working.
Teach me to trust You in the in-between seasons of my life, when I don’t have answers, when I cannot see clearly, and when I feel the weight of waiting. Help me to rest in You, even when my heart is unsettled.
And when new life begins to rise, give me the courage to walk fully in the purpose You have already prepared. Let my life reflect both Your sacrifice and Your victory.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
