Sermon for April 19, 2025 — Holy Saturday

Sermon for April 19, 2025 — Holy Saturday

Psalm 31:1–4, 15–16 • Lamentations 3:1–9, 19–24 • 1 Peter 4:1–8 • Matthew 27:57–66

The theme for this Holy Saturday is Jesus’ suffering and death inspire acts of love. The psalmist cries out for God’s salvation and deliverance as he faces persecution and plots on his life. He is reminded of who God is as his rock and fortress, the One who loves him with a steadfast love. The passage in Lamentations recounts God’s faithful compassion and mercy in the middle of affliction and suffering. The apostle Peter, in our New Testament reading, reminds us that just as Jesus suffered and died in his flesh, so must we also die to self and sin, and live to Christ. Because God in Christ has so loved us, we love one another. In the Gospel passage, we see such devotion in response to Jesus’ self–offering expressed in Joseph’s self–offering on Jesus’ behalf. At the risk of losing his position in the community and being arrested, Joseph requests the body of Jesus from Pilate, wraps it in a shroud, and buries it in his own tomb.

God With Us in Our Grief

Lamentations 3:1–9, 19–24 ESV

[This service is designed to include communion.]

I am the man who has seen affliction under the rod of his wrath; he has driven and brought me into darkness without any light; surely against me he turns his hand again and again the whole day long. He has made my flesh and my skin waste away; he has broken my bones; he has besieged and enveloped me with bitterness and tribulation; he has made me dwell in darkness like the dead of long ago. He has walled me about so that I cannot escape; he has made my chains heavy; though I call and cry for help, he shuts out my prayer; he has blocked my ways with blocks of stones; he has made my paths crooked. … Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” Lamentations 3: 1–9, 19–24 ESV

As we pause on Holy Saturday to consider Jesus lying dead in the tomb, let’s consider what it means to practice the spiritual discipline of lament. This is a unique place well suited for us to ponder lament, for we are sitting by the tomb remembering how Joseph and Nicodemus wrapped the dead body of their beloved Jesus for burial. We see the tomb shut up, sealed by the Jews and Romans to ensure no one can steal the body away. This was, indeed, a very dark day for those who loved and followed Jesus.

Holy Saturday is a meaningful day to pause and acknowledge the darkness and deep suffering that we and others experience. We see the deeply rooted evil and sin that cause suffering and death every day. Tragedies surround us, sometimes caused by our own stubborn refusal to live in the truth of who we are as God’s children and sometimes by forces outside of our control.

Yes. Jesus is triumphant, and we share in his resurrected life. And it is also true that for a while yet, we must still deal with the evil, suffering, and death in this world. It can seem like a paradox. One way to define “paradox” is two things or conditions that seem to contradict one another but are both true at the same time. For example, we are new creations in Christ, and we still feel the effects of sin, death, and decay.

It’s acceptable to pause here on Holy Saturday. We don’t need to bypass the tomb and rush to Easter morning! But you may have witnessed this bypassing before — literally during Holy Week and figuratively when we or others are experiencing grief. Do we try to rush people out of their sorrow to “move” them to a place of rejoicing? The spiritual discipline of lament teaches us a better way.

The book of Lamentations (as its name implies) provides us with an example of lament. The book of Lamentations is traditionally attributed to a poet and prophet named Jeremiah. It is a collection of poetry — five sorrowful poems that mourn the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple by the Babylonians in the sixth century. The writer expresses deep grief, using raw and emotional language to describe the agony of the people. The poetic language includes imagery of weeping, loneliness, and loss, and vivid descriptions of devastation.

What does Lamentations teach us about God?

• • God sees and acknowledges our deep suffering and genuine expressions of our pain, grief, and frustration. It’s okay to lament. In fact, Lamentations shows us that bringing sorrow before God is part of faith. We can boldly, honestly pour out our deepest longings to God.
  • God is faithful. Lamentations reminds believers that even in the midst of devastation and deep despair, God’s faithfulness remains. God will not abandon us even at our lowest point. God is unchanging. God’s mercy is constant. His compassion never ends.

Some bible scholars say that verses 21–26 represent a shift from despair to hope. This way of framing it could give the impression that before the writer was crying out his lament, railing against God for his circumstances, and now he’s praising God for his steadfast love and proclaiming hope in God’s mercies, as if he flipped a switch.

My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:20–23

The poet could mean my soul was low, but now instead, I have hope. We can’t know for sure, but it seems more likely that his intended meaning was my soul is low, but (or even still) I remember God’s love and have hope. It’s more likely because the poem continues with the writer still lamenting, with phrases like our enemies bring destruction upon us and I am crying rivers of tears. Can we understand lament and hope as coexisting, as being experienced at the same time, in the same space?

This is another example of a paradox. Remember: a paradox occurs when two seemingly opposite or contradictory truths coexist. And some people believe hope and lament are opposites. But are they opposite ends of a spectrum? Must we move away from lament to reach hope? Our lived experiences should teach us that it’s not a simple sequence of first you are lamenting, then you move to hopeful, and finally you arrive at rejoicing.

That’s an oversimplification that is used to shame people (particularly Christians) who experience overwhelming grief or depression. Lament and hope can coexist, and lament is not a sign of weak faith. “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 1:1). If you are already living in the land of perpetual sunshine and rejoicing, what do you need to hope for?

And this leads us to where we are today on Holy Saturday — lamenting Jesus’ violent crucifixion and death, but not without hope. Jesus’ dead body lays in a dark tomb; he joined all of us where we were, in the middle of the consequences of our sin and disobedience. He experienced the results of people giving themselves over to evil intents and purposes. And he underwent the darkest human execution — crucifixion, so that we might be freed once and for all from death, evil, and sin.

Jesus’ cry on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” is the cry of the human heart when it is lost in the darkness and cannot see the truth of our unbreakable union of love with our Creator and Sustainer. The Son of God could never be separated from his Father, for he and his Father are one. But he was willing to fully experience our human sense of alienation and lostness, so that we could one day participate in his union and communion with his Father in the Spirit. God made Jesus “to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21 ESV).

If you are in a place in your life where you experience deep sadness, you are not alone. Jesus has already joined you in your dark place and has brought his presence as the Light of the world by his Holy Spirit. He is grieving in your grief, suffering in your suffering, and sorrowing in your sorrow. He knows the anger and distress which arise when you don’t sense God’s presence or care and when it seems God is not answering your prayers. Lament is a time when we can enter fully into our grief and loss, and all the accompanying emotions, and come to understand that, in Christ, God is indeed present, and cares, and shares in all we are going through.

The author of Lamentations reminds us of who God is, our faithful Lord who loves us with steadfast love and unfailing mercy. The Son of God joined us where we are, in the middle of our broken, sinful world, where we so often are lost and in despair. He experienced the worst from our hands, but remained faithful to his Father and to us, even to the point of death on a cross.

Our hope isn’t dependent on our circumstances improving or our suffering being relieved. Our hope isn’t dependent on evil people repenting and stopping their harm. These things may happen, or they may not. There is only one place to put our hope, and that is in the God of hope. Because of whom God is, our faithful, loving, merciful Father, who gives us his Son and his Spirit for our salvation, we have hope. And because of this hope, we offer our trust and wait on the Lord.

Perhaps someone in your life is in a season of lament or your community is bowed down under a deep sense of loss or suffering. In prayerful obedience to the Holy Spirit, how might you join them in their place of darkness? How might you sit silently with them and share in Jesus’ own presence, his grace and love, by the Holy Spirit in that place? Take a moment and commit yourself to join them where they are and to be present with them in their circumstance.

Prayer for Communion: Father, thank you for being present with us in every situation through your Son Jesus in the Spirit. Remind us anew that our hope is in you, and in you alone. How might you want us to receive your presence in our dark places? How might you want us to be present with others in their place of darkness? As we receive Christ through the bread and the wine, may we live out his life in caring concern and compassion for others each and every day, in his name. Amen.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13 NIV

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Small Group Discussion Questions