Today is Silent Saturday—the day after Good Friday and before Resurrection Sunday—the day darkness rejoiced as though Heaven had lost.
This post was originally published on April 8, 2023.
_______________________
I visited Taylor University last spring, and something strange happened during the chapel service I attended.
We sang a song I had never heard before, called Death Was Arrested. It was a perfect Easter-time song, proclaiming Jesus’ victory over sin, darkness, and death. But something happened in the middle of the song that—for first time listeners like me—was quite shocking. Midway through the song, we sang:
Our Savior displayed on a criminal’s cross
Darkness rejoiced as though Heaven had lost
Then, suddenly, the music faded. Several (long) seconds of silence ensued. (In the North Point Worship version—which is even more dramatic—the lights cut out, and darkness floods in.) For a few moments, the room filled with the ominous aura of Silent Saturday—waiting, wondering, darkness, quiet. First-time listeners like me were left to wonder, Is that it? Is the song over? Does it really end with heaven losing and darkness winning?
Fortunately, the song eventually picked back up, with the ensuing lines heralding the joys of Jesus’ resurrection. But those few long seconds of silence communicate an important message—one that believers would do well to remember this Easter weekend (and beyond).
When darkness feels like your closest friend
Part of what makes that moment in the song—and all of Silent Saturday—so meaningful is that our lives are full of moments (and seasons) of silence, waiting, and tension. Times when it feels like darkness has won and heaven has lost.
I experienced one such moment a little over a year ago.
It was a season of praying, fasting, struggling, and waiting. One morning, I spent several hours in my bedroom, seeking the Lord and wrestling to discern his will for my life. I begged him for direction, for something to make his will clear. Yet he remained silent. Not only that, but it felt like he wasn’t even there. Almost like he didn’t care.
By God’s grace, this was an unusual experience for me. Normally, God attends my prayer times with a tangible sense of his presence, love, and often even direction. But this day felt different. It felt like darkness. I even asked him, “Are you not going to meet me today?”
He didn’t answer.
(At least, it didn’t initially feel like he had answered.)
So, I did what any good seminary student would—I prayed Psalm 88. It was the first time in my life that I pulled the Psalm 88 card on God in prayer. This chapter is known to be one of the only Psalms that does not end with a word of hope. In fact, the prayer ends with “Darkness is my closest friend.”
That’s what I felt that day.
It wasn’t complete hopelessness—God has proved himself faithful too many times for that—but my experience was, “In this moment, it feels like darkness has won. It feels like God is absent. It feels like God doesn’t hear me. Where is he in all of this?”
The Hidden Light of Psalm 88
As the day went on, it dawned on me that the very existence of Psalm 88 is evidence of God’s presence and care. I was reminded that in suffering, God doesn’t say, “Stop hurting! How dare you feel like darkness is your closest friend!” Instead, God is the one who gives us these words to pray in the first place.
God doesn’t only give us permission to express our true feelings; he literally gives us step-by-step instructions. He knew we would, at times, feel swallowed up by darkness, so he gave us a way to process our feelings with him—a way for our souls to breathe.1
Like any good counselor, God isn’t threatened or offended by our feelings. He doesn’t interrogate us; he illuminates us—helping us understand our own feelings and take them captive through his Word (Psalm 119:49–50).
The Hope of Silent Saturday
Consider God’s kindness in writing Silent Saturday into Holy Week. He could’ve just as easily raised Jesus from the dead the day after Christ died. Why leave people waiting?
By writing Silent Saturday into Holy Week, God says to every suffering believer: I see you. I know your suffering. I know darkness clouds your vision and threatens to smother your hope. But remember: Delay is not denial. The best news in human history came after a period of waiting—and the best things in your life will often come after a period of waiting. I didn’t leave Christ in the grave, and I won’t leave you in the grave, either. Darkness didn’t prevail over Christ, and it won’t prevail over you.
Believer, let this Silent Saturday remind you that our Savior willingly entered darkness to give us hope in our darkness. He knows what it feels like to wait. He knows what it feels like to suffer. He’s not unfamiliar with the blackness; he plunged its deepest depths—its very heart—to rescue us. And because Jesus entered that dark abyss, we can rest knowing that the darkness we experience in this life is the darkest it will ever get. Eternal light is coming. Resurrection is coming. Jesus is coming.
“I am certain I will see the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the Lord!” —Psalm 27:13–14
_________________________

Blake Glosson is a pastoral resident at Chapelstreet Church in Geneva, Illinois, and an MDiv student at Reformed Theological Seminary. He has been published by The Gospel Coalition, Life Bible, and Crosswalk.com and republished and/or referred by Eternal Perspective Ministries (Randy Alcorn), Challies.com (Tim Challies), DashHouse (Darryl Dash), Moody Radio (here, here, and here), The JOY FM (The Morning Cruise with Dave, Bill, and Carmen), ChurchLeaders.com, Monergism.com, The Aquila Report (here and here), and numerous other sources. Previously, he served as the director of young adults at New Covenant Bible Church in St. Charles, Illinois.
Watch or read “3 Reasons for Hope in Times of Darkness” here.
Read “In Suffering, God Isn’t (Simply) Teaching You a Lesson” here.
Read “That Decompressing Exhale For Which Our Souls Long” here.
Song suggestions:
- Death Was Arrested (North Point Worship)
- You’ve Already Won (Shane & Shane)
- King of Kings (Hillsong Worship)
- Ed Welch describes the Psalter as a self-diagnosis manual through which God asks us, “Do you feel like I have left you? Do you feel like I have forgotten you? Do you feel like I have rejected you? Do you feel like I don’t care? Do you feel like I don’t hear? Do you feel like I sleep while you suffer? Do you feel like you are drowning in my waves? Do you feel like darkness is your closest companion?” God graciously gives us words to pray when we have none. He even gives us words to express our frustrations with him! ↩︎







Leave a Reply