Eternal Quietude

(olive trees in Israel)

I sit this morning in quiet ~ as defined by the dictionary ~ making no noise, silent, hushed; calm and unmoving, still.

I'm trying to imagine the hush that fell over the land in the midst of the grief, turmoil, anger and even mockery of Christ's death on the cross. Buried in a grave that was not even His. The lack of light. The lack of sound in that dark burial cave. A sensory free fall into blackness.

Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own tomb that he had made out of rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away. (Matt 27:59)

Christ was not deterred by that closed off tomb. His Spirit was released at last from the confines of its body. But in my humanness, I cannot imagine the journey that Christ undertook from that grave to hell to heaven and back in the time between crucifixion and resurrection.

In my humanness, I am still stuck in that quiet place of the soul-sucking absence of sound; the scream that cries out but makes no noise. I am speechless that I helped condemn Him to that place. I am speechless at the distance He was willing to go for me beyond my pathetic understanding of His sacrificial love.

Yet I know there will be a third day in this amazing trilogy. I know that He will arise victorious and claim His rightful place. I know that in my belief, I will be forgiven and I can rest in His eternal quietude ~ a state of tranquility that I can experience even now. It will be a different kind of quiet
~ as further defined by the dictionary ~ free from agitation, untroubled, restful, soothing.