Rising After Resting

 

“Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” — Luke 24:5b

Easter is filled with joyful sound—trumpets, alleluias, lilies bursting into bloom. We gather to celebrate the empty tomb, the risen Christ, the triumph of life over death. But before the joy of resurrection, there was a silence so deep it filled all of creation.

It was the stillness of Holy Saturday.

The Silence That Speaks

On that Sabbath day, Jesus rested in the tomb. Not because His mission failed, but because it was finished. The silence wasn’t defeat—it was sacred. Heavy. Full of meaning. Just like the first Sabbath after creation, this rest declared something complete.

It echoed the very beginning of the world.

God Rested at Creation

In Genesis, we read that after creating everything—light and land, sea and sky, birds and beasts, and finally, human beings—God didn’t rush on to the next thing. He paused.

“On the seventh day, God finished His work that He had done, and He rested.” (Genesis 2:2)

This wasn’t rest from exhaustion. It was the holy rest of completion. God’s pause was a declaration that His work was good. Whole. Done. That moment became the first Sabbath, a rhythm of peace etched into the universe itself.

Jesus Rests After Redemption

And then came another Sabbath.

After the agony of the cross and the words “It is finished,” Jesus is laid in the tomb before sundown. The Sabbath begins. And the Savior rests.

It mirrors creation: God rested after forming the world; now Christ rests after redeeming it. The tomb becomes holy ground, not of death, but of sacred pause—of divine stillness between what was and what will be.

Though nothing seemed to happen on that Saturday, everything was shifting. Sin was broken. Death defeated. Hope waiting, just beneath the surface.

Time, as the Jews Kept It

Many ask: how can we say Jesus was dead for three days if He died on Friday and rose on Sunday?

Here’s the key: in Jewish tradition, a new day begins at sundown, not at midnight. And any portion of a day counts as a whole.

So:

Day One: Friday (Jesus dies and is buried before sunset)

Day Two: Saturday (the Sabbath, He rests in the tomb)

Day Three: Sunday (He rises at dawn)

Three days, as He foretold.

Jesus even referred to this rhythm when He said, “Are there not twelve hours in the day?” (John 11:9). For ancient Jews, a day was twelve hours of daylight—roughly sunrise to sunset—followed by night. That’s the timeline of the resurrection story: deeply rooted in the Jewish rhythm of life and time.

Passover: The Freedom Feast

And there’s another layer that deepens the meaning of Easter—Passover.

The Jewish feast of Passover commemorates the Israelites’ liberation from slavery in Egypt, when God passed over the homes marked by the blood of the lamb (Exodus 12). It is a celebration of freedom, deliverance, and divine rescue.

This year, Passover begins at sundown on Saturday, April 12, and ends at sundown on Sunday, April 20—which means it concludes on Easter Sunday.

That overlap isn’t just a coincidence—it’s a deep theological echo. Just as Passover marked the release from physical bondage, Easter marks the liberation from spiritual death. Jesus, the Lamb of God, gives His life during Passover week. His blood becomes the sign that death no longer holds power. His resurrection becomes the great exodus from the grave.

The Women at the Tomb

And in the quiet of that early Sunday morning, it wasn’t Peter or John who first came to the tomb.

It was the women.

Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Salome,  Mary the mother of James. Others, too. They had followed Jesus not just in life, but in death. While many had scattered in fear, these women came in grief, bearing spices to honor His body.

But what they found changed everything.

The stone was rolled away. The tomb was empty. And angels asked, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?”

It was to them—not kings or priests or even apostles—that the resurrection was first revealed. In a time and culture that often overlooked women’s voices, God chose them to be the first witnesses of the risen Christ. The first preachers of resurrection.

They ran to tell the others, hearts pounding, lives forever changed.

And just like the first Passover freed the Israelites from Egypt, the true Lamb has come to lead us into freedom—not from Pharaoh, but from fear, guilt, and death itself.

In their faithfulness and courage, we see a powerful truth: sometimes, the most transformative moments come to those who continue showing up in the dark, even when hope feels lost.

When God Is Silent, He’s Still Working

To the disciples, Friday had been traumatic. Saturday was unbearable. Silence. Confusion. Grief. They didn’t yet know that Sunday was on the horizon.

We’ve all known “Saturday seasons”—moments where God feels distant, where prayers seem to hang in the air unanswered. But in the silence, God is not absent. He is working. Transforming. Resurrecting.

Even when we can't see it.

Light Breaks the Silence

On the first day of the week, as the sun rose, so did the Son of God.

Jesus hasn’t just returned to life. He’s stepped into new life. Resurrection life. Eternal life.

It’s the first day of a new week. The first breath of a new creation. Just as light broke the darkness in Genesis, the Son rises, and the world is never the same again.

The Invitation of Resurrection

The story of Easter isn’t just history—it’s hope. Jesus’ rest leads to rising. His silence gives way to singing. His death makes room for new life.

Whatever part of the story you find yourself in—whether you’re stuck in a Friday of pain, a Saturday of silence, or yearning for a Sunday of joy—know this: resurrection is real. And it is coming.

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.

So rest. And rise.

Because the grave is not the end.

Happy Easter!