Grant Batchelder

Dear Friends in Christ,

The Gospels (Matthew 27:57-66 and John 19:38-42) tell us that Jesus is taken down, wrapped, and laid in a tomb. A stone is set in place. In Matthew, the tomb is sealed and guarded. And then… the story pauses.

What stands out about this day is not that nothing ever happens, but that nothing is told. There are no words from Jesus, no response from God, no indication of what comes next. The narrative does not move forward. It simply holds.

We are given the details of care. A body is prepared. Linen cloths. Spices. A new tomb. People doing what they can with what is left. And then they leave.

This kind of moment can be harder than we expect. Not the crisis itself, but what comes after, when everything that could be done has been done, and there is nothing left to fix.

The Gospels do not say that Jesus rested. They show us a day where nothing unfolds in front of us. And yet it is the Sabbath. The work is finished, though no one present would have recognized it that way. The world looks the same. The loss is still real.

Faith sometimes looks like this. Not clarity or action, but remaining in a moment that has not resolved. Not rushing ahead, but staying with what is unfinished.

But this day carries a weight that is easy to miss. It is not empty. It is the stillness before everything changes. The work that has been done will not remain hidden. What looks final is not final. What feels sealed is not sealed.

And yet, for now, no one knows that.

There are times when we do not know what God is doing, or whether anything is happening at all. This day does not answer that. It simply holds the space between loss and revelation.

There is something faithful in that kind of waiting. Not because we understand it, but because we remain.

Where in your life are you being asked to remain, even when nothing seems to be happening?

In Christ,

—Grant