While chatting with my parents the other day we began to rehash one of my failed home improvement projects, which always brings laughter to our conversation when we reminisce about this story. It began when I saw paint for refrigerators at Lowes. And since every appliance in our kitchen was black, except the refrigerator, I knew right away that our almond-colored fridge would soon be a black one. Nothing wrong with that, is there? Nope—not unless you decide that you simply cannot wait for the right time and the right place.

I left the store with the can of spray paint; it glared at me from the counter for days, until I could stand it no longer, and impatience began to set in. Pat was working long hours and hadn’t been able to help me move the fridge outside, I would glance at the can and think to myself, I have got to get this done; I just can’t wait any longer. And so, I didn’t wait. I took matters into my own hands and decided to come up with my own plan—a plan that seemed simple enough to work. I moved the fridge to the center of the kitchen and made a “box” out of newspapers that I hung around it; I boxed her in, so to speak. To me, this seemed like a brilliant idea! I would no longer need to wait for Pat; after all he was working hard, and I could get the project done. Wouldn’t he be blessed to not have this to worry about? So, after putting on my old paint clothes and a pair of flip-flops, I began to spray away. I was busy spraying that can when I heard a knock on the door. As I moved my foot off of the newspaper I had placed on the floor, my flip-flop stuck to it and I noticed my foot had a nice white line from my flip-flop. I thought to myself, oh nice, the paint is falling on my feet, as I ran to the door to find our UPS man standing there with a package I needed to sign for. I hadn’t realized how messy my hands had become until I saw a very puzzled look on Mr. UPS’ face. I snickered a bit and told him I was busy painting, signed for the package and said my goodbyes. As I turned to walk back into the house, I could not believe my eyes. I stood stunned, staring into a kitchen filled— filled--with a gray paint fog. But not just the kitchen, oh no, our cathedral ceilings had allowed the paint fog to swallow up the living room as well. As I began to realize the gravity of my mistake, I decided a tour of the house was necessary. Walking into the bathroom it didn’t take long for me to realize why the UPS man had looked at me with such an odd expression; I’m sure it was because of the perfect little black rings that circled my nostrils and the grungy gray look pasted across my face. Oh dear Lord, what had I done? I returned to the kitchen to discover that along with my new black-spray-painted-refrigerator, everything else had been painted too. When I moved an object on the counter, I could see the outline from where it rested. I had created a ginormous wreck and I only had a few hours before Patrick would arrive home. I immediately went to work scrubbing everything in the house, from the floors, to the furniture, the cabinets, the walls, the windows, everything. My goal was to have the place sparkling before Pat came home so he would see the painted fridge and nothing more. That plan failed when he walked in the door two hours earlier than expected, announcing, “Honey I’m home!” I screamed. It took a few days of intense cleaning to get the place unstained by the residue of gray mist. Every so often I would come across a little bit of gray, which served to remind me of the value of patience.

This story is a great source of entertainment for my family; we laugh about it often. However, because of it, I’ve learned to recognize just how headstrong I can be. I’ve always been pretty determined when I get my mind set on something, which can be a good thing, a God-thing even… but it also can become a negative. Do you know what God calls a “headstrong” person? Stiff-necked. And stiff-necked people irritate Him. When the Israelites made the molded calf and worshipped it, He told Moses they were stiff-necked and He was ready to consume them (Exodus 32:8-10). When the Lord told Moses to depart from Sinai with the Israelites, He said: “Go up to a land flowing with milk and honey; for I will not go up in your midst, lest I consume you on the way, for you are a stiff-necked people” (Exodus 33:3 NKJV). He would send an Angel before them, but He would not be in their midst because they were headstrong, or stiff-necked. Can you imagine God not being in your midst because what you see as determination, He sees as stiff-necked?

In my mind, making a little box around that fridge with newspaper was sufficient enough for me to proceed with my project. Rather than waiting for Pat to help move the refrigerator outside, which would have been the wise thing, I took matters into own hands, decided it had to be done immediately, and came up with my own plan. I was determined to paint, and it was going to happen right then, without ever considering any of the negative possibilities, or asking advice from others. I just pressed ahead to get the job done. Impatience has pulled me into more trouble than I care to admit.

It’s taken years for God to get the places in my mind unstained by the residue of sin because of my headstrong approach to life. Every so often I am made

Aware of my impatient pride when I see a hint of

Behavior that has

Ceased to remember stiff-necked people don’t impress God.

Silent Saturday. This is how I refer to the Saturday in between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. It was, after all, the day after Hope was hung on a tree and then placed in a cave. For those who had believed Jesus had come to rescue Israel and become their earthly King, the events of Good Friday crushed their hopes.  For those who had loved Jesus as a Son, Brother, and Friend the events crushed their hearts. Even though Jesus had predicted His death and resurrection—at least three times—they couldn’t fully grasp the reality of what was happening as they watched the events that painful Friday. I wonder if these conversations began to resurface in their memory as Jesus carried His cross…

“From that time Jesus began to show to His disciples that He must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised the third day” (Matthew 16:21 NKJV).

“Now while they were staying in Galilee, Jesus said to them, “The Son of Man is about to be betrayed into the hands of men, and they will kill Him, and the third day He will be raised up.” And they were exceedingly sorrowful” (Matthew 17:22-23 NKJV).

“Now Jesus, going up to Jerusalem, took the twelve disciples aside on the road and said to them, “Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and to the scribes; and they will condemn Him to death, and deliver Him to the Gentiles to mock and to scourge and to crucify. And the third day He will rise again” (Matthew 20:17-19 NKJV).

He warned them of what would come, but they had set their eyes on a different future, one with Him as their King. In fact, one mom with high hopes for her boys asked Jesus if He would allow them to sit, one at the right hand and the other at the left hand when He came into His kingdom (Matthew 20:21-22). A good mom makes plans for her children, right? Every year when Good Friday approaches I wonder what held their thoughts as they watched their Friend hang from a cross; with His death their hopes, desires and expectations would also die. When Jesus warned them of His death, He had also informed them of what Sunday would bring; had they forgotten?

In Matthew 17 we are told the disciples became “exceedingly sorrowful” when they heard Jesus explain what would happen. How often do we hear a story and become sorrowful for what might lie ahead for the person suffering? Depending on the closeness of the relationship, we may become exceedingly sorrowful for them. But everything changed when the disciples experienced, first hand, the death of Jesus as they stood in disbelief over what was happening. The same is true for us today, we hear and we are sorrowful. We experience and wonder in disbelief how can this be happening to us? It would seem we all, at one point or another, must endure the silence of a Saturday—that day which follows the event that shocks us—leaving us feeling helpless, hopeless and wondering why.

The unexpected 
The unwelcome 
The unwanted 
The unresponsive 
The unanticipated 

The list can seem unending but each un comes before the day our hope can ever be restored. We work to put our plans into place and trust life to move forward as we expect, but there are those nasty bumps that leave us shaken. The bad news comes, the weeping begins, and the pain follows as we wait out the silence of Saturday.

Everyone encounters a few Silent Saturdays and every family will walk through them. Here's the hope we must cling to: Every time Jesus talked of His death, He promised the resurrection.  He wanted us to know that following the pain of Good Friday and the silence of the Saturday there would come resurrection Sunday. While it may seem right to turn from the cross, walk away in defeat and give despair total control, we must be mindful of the fact that while we may not see it right away with our natural eyes, Jesus works on Saturdays. When we are in the midst of a Silent Saturday and our eyes become fixed on fear of the unknown, or all seems hopeless, and it appears change may never come, we must not lose sight of the fact that Jesus is up to something. He is fighting right along with us in the battle. It is our job to hold fast to Hope in the midst of the silence, waiting for Him to breathe life back into what appears dead.

"Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down. And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God, a punishment for his own sins! But He was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins. He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed"(Isaiah 53: 4-5 NLT).  Jesus was fighting hard for us on that Saturday thousands of years ago; He wasn't dead – He was in a battle. A fierce battle for us. For every soul that would experience the pain of a Silent Saturday, He was taking back what the enemy had stolen. 

I don’t know what situation or circumstance you are in the midst of that feels like a Silent Saturday—but God does. As you allow God to change your identity—one letter at a time—grasp the rope of Hope and latch on to the promises God has given.  A lot can happen in three days – Jesus walked through Friday, worked on Saturday and lived again on Sunday.