Saturday Faith: Trusting God in the Silence

What do you do when nothing is happening… and God feels quiet?

In this Holy Saturday episode of Divine Shenanigans, we step into the uncomfortable, often overlooked space between Good Friday and Easter Sunday—the in-between.

Because if we’re honest… most of life doesn’t feel like a breakthrough or a breakdown.

It feels like waiting.

In this reflective and powerful episode, Brynn explores:

✨ What it meant for the disciples to sit in silence—not knowing Sunday was coming
 ✨ How to hold onto hope when the promise feels buried
 ✨ Why God does His deepest work underground
 ✨ The truth that waiting seasons are not wasted seasons

Through personal stories, real-life community struggles, and Scripture, we unpack what it looks like to trust God when He feels quiet—and how to stay grounded in faith when nothing seems to be moving.

📖 Scripture Focus:

• Matthew 27:57–66
• Romans 8:24–25

🎧 Song of the Week:
“Sparrows Still Sing” by Brynn Elise
A reminder that even in quiet seasons… life, faith, and hope are still alive.

📝 Holy Homework:
Practice 10 minutes of stillness this week—no distractions, just you and God.

And don’t miss our BONUS Easter episode:
 🌅 “Resurrection Is Not Subtle” — because the story doesn’t end in silence.

💛 Join the Divine Shenanigans community where we keep the faith going all week long:
 YouTube | Substack | Skool | Facebook

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

It's divide to another girl. Only the Literature with Grace. We need to correct it and sanctify clarity. With Britain on the mic and truth in her hands. She's breaking down the bubble with laughter and a plant. It's divine. Oh, it's divine shenanigans.

SPEAKER_02 0:28

Hey y'all, welcome back to Divine Shenanigans. I'm Bryn, your fellow figure it out as I go, friend, and today we are sitting in a moment that doesn't get a lot of attention. Not Good Friday, not Easter Sunday, but Saturday. That strange, quiet, confusing, uncomfortable in between. And if we're being honest, most of life feels like Saturday. Not the breakthrough, not the devastation, just waiting. So today we're talking about what do you do when nothing is happening? What do you do when God feels quiet? What do you do when the promise feels buried? And we're doing this divine shenanigans style. Which means we're gonna laugh a little, we're gonna be honest a lot, and maybe call ourselves out gently along the way. Because if we're being real, some of us don't just struggle with waiting. We panic scroll, overthink, and spiritually spiral in the waiting. Just me? Cool. Love that for us, because I give us plenty to talk about. Let's go back to that first holy Saturday. Jesus has been crucified, the sky went dark, the earth shook. Hope looked like it died. In Matthew twenty seven, fifty seven through sixty six, we see Jesus is taken down, placed in a tomb, a stone is rolled in front, and guards are posted. Everything looks final, sealed, silent, over. But here's the thing. The disciples didn't know Sunday was coming. Let that sit for just a second, because we read this story with hindsight. They lived it in confusion. They didn't know resurrection was twenty four hours away. They didn't know the stone wouldn't stay put. They didn't know death wasn't the end. To them it looked like God didn't come through. The promise failed. The story ended wrong. And if we're honest, we've all had Saturday seasons that felt exactly like that. Let me tell you about one of mine. There was a season in my life where everything felt quiet. Not peaceful quiet, not resting in the Lord quiet. I'm talking about that did my prayers hit voicemail quiet? God, are you still talking quiet? Hello, I'm spiraling down here quiet. And I had been praying about something specific, believing for it, working toward it, trusting God with it. And then nothing. No doors opened, no clear answers, no burning bush moment, not even a slightly warm shrub. Just silence. And I remember thinking, did I miss it? Did I mess it up? Did God change his mind? Because when God is quiet, our brains get loud. Very loud. And we start filling in the silence with fear. And y'all, I know I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about some real life Saturday moments. Community stories that have come in. I prayed for direction and got nothing. I thought God told me something and it didn't happen. I've been waiting for healing, and it still hurts. I'm doing all the right things and nothing is changing. And here's my personal favorite. I gave it to God, but I keep checking on it like a tracking number. Lord, where is it? It said out for delivery three weeks ago. Y'all we laugh, but this is real. Because waiting makes us uncomfortable. Silence makes us insecure, and uncertainty makes us want to control something. So let's ask the real question. What do you do when God is quiet? Well, let's sit here for a moment. Because this is where a lot of us get stuck. Just because it's quiet doesn't mean it's inactive. And I know that sounds like something you'd put on a Pinterest board next to a sunset and a coffee cup, but in real life, it's harder to believe. Because when we don't see movement, we assume there is no movement. We think nothing is changing, nothing is happening. God must not be doing anything. But let me lovingly say this. Your visibility is not the same as God's activity. Saturday looked silent, but heaven was not sitting around like hmm, what should we do next? No. Something was shifting. Something was preparing. Something was already in motion, even though no one on earth could see it yet. I think one of the biggest struggles we have as humans is this. We trust what we can see more than who we know. If we can't see progress, we assume there is none. If we don't feel God, we assume he's distant. If things aren't moving fast, we assume something is wrong. But let me reframe this for you. God does his deepest work in hidden places. Think about how God designed growth. Seeds, they don't grow in the spotlight. They grow underground. Roots they don't form where anyone can see them. They form in the dark. Even Jesus, the Savior of the world, the hope of humanity, spent Saturday in a tomb, hidden, still, unseen. And yet resurrection was already in progress. That part gets me every time, because what looked like the end was actually the middle of a miracle. And I think some of us are standing in the middle of something God is building right now. But we're calling it nothing. We're saying God isn't doing anything. Well, he's literally strengthening your faith, shifting your perspective, protecting you from something you don't even see, aligning things behind the scenes. But because it's not visible, we assume it's not valuable. Now let's be honest. If God worked like we wanted him to, everything would be immediate, obvious, explained step by step. But then we wouldn't need faith. We'd just need a calendar. Okay, God, I see the time. Cool, I'll circle back around to that miracle next Thursday. But that's not how it works. Because God is not just trying to give you something, He's forming something. And that formation, it usually happens where no one sees it. Now here's the hard truth, but it's free. Just because you can't track it doesn't mean God isn't working on it. Some of y'all are refreshing your prayers like any updates? Meanwhile, God is like, I'm doing 47 things you don't even know about yet. And I say that with love because I do the same thing. We all want proof, progress, signs. But God, He offers trust, growth, timing. Now what if your nothing is happening season is actually everything important is happening quietly? What if the delay is protection? The silence is preparation? The stillness is strengthening? What if God is working underground? So when it does break through, it's stable, rooted, and ready. Because fast growth without deep roots doesn't last. So if you're in a Sunday season right now, I want you to hold on to this. God is still working, even when you can't see it, feel it, or explain it. He is not late, he is not absent, and he is not confused. And your story did not end in the silence. So before we move on, let's take a deep breath and let this settle. Just because it's quiet doesn't mean God is. Alright, let's talk about waiting. Because if we're being honest, most of us don't actually struggle with faith. We struggle with timing. We're like, God, I trust you, but also respectfully win. And not even in a rude way, just a very persistent, slightly anxious, hey God, just circling back around on that thing we talked about kind of way. Because waiting feels like nothing is happening. Time is being lost. Life is on pause. And if we are really honest, waiting can feel like punishment. Like, did I do something wrong? Am I being delayed? Is God holding out on me? But here's the truth: we don't always want to hear. Waiting is not where God forgets you. Waiting is where God forms you. And I know that's not always comforting in the moment. But we don't wake up thinking, Lord, I would love some character development today. We're like, can I just have the blessing without the whole emotional growth thing? But God doesn't skip the process. Because the process is what prepares you to carry what you're asking for. We think waiting equals stillness. God says waiting equals movement, just not visible movement. Because while you're waiting, God is aligning things you can't see, closing doors that would have hurt you, building strength you didn't know you needed, teaching you dependence instead of control. But because it's not loud, we assume it's not happening. Now let's be honest about how we act in the waiting season. Yep, we're going there. We say we trust God, but then we overanalyze every single detail. We compare our timeline to someone else's. We try to force doors open. We emotionally spiral at 2 a.m. And then we're like, God, why am I so stressed? Well, it's because you're trying to do God's job on a timeline he didn't give you. Waiting has a way of exposing things in us. Do we trust God or just the outcomes? Do we trust his plan or just our preferences? Do we trust his timing or just our expectations? Because it's easy to say God is good when things are moving. It's harder to believe it when things feel stuck. But this is where faith gets real. If God gave you everything instantly, you might receive it, but you wouldn't be ready to sustain it. Waiting deepens our faith, stabilizes our identity, strengthens our patience, teaches us to trust without constant confirmation. Because blessings without foundation become burdens. And God loves you too much to give you something you're not ready to carry yet. We look at waiting and think, I'm behind, I've lost time, nothing is happening. But what if nothing is wasted? What if every delay, every pause, every unanswered moment is actually being used? Used to refine you, redirect you, prepare you, and protect you. Because sometimes what feels like a delay is actually God saying, not yet, because I love you too much to rush this. Now let's be real. If God answered all of our prayers immediately, we would absolutely make impulsive decisions, skip growth, and probably mess it up in record time. Lord, I'm ready, God says, You cried in the drive-thru line yesterday. Growth matters. So if you're in a waiting season right now, I want you to hold on to this. Waiting is not wasted. It is working. Even when it feels slow, even when it feels frustrating, even when it feels unclear. God is not stalling. He is preparing. So if your life feels like it's on pause, if things aren't moving the way you hoped, if you're sitting in that uncomfortable in-between, I want you to take a breath. Because waiting is not the absence of God's work. It's often where his best work begins. Alright, let's talk about the part that gets under all of us. The silence. Not the peaceful, cozy, I've got my coffee and Jesus kind of quiet. I mean the kind of silence that makes you wonder, God, are you there? Did I do something wrong? Why does it feel like I'm talking and getting nothing back? Because if we're honest, silence can feel like rejection. It can feel like being ignored, being forgotten, being left unread by heaven. And we don't usually say it out loud, but we think it. If God cared, wouldn't He respond? Let's just normalize something real quick here. Feeling like God is quiet does not mean you're doing something wrong. I need you to hear that. Because a lot of us have been taught, directly or indirectly, that if God is silent, it must be your fault. So we start spiraling. Am I not praying right? Is my faith too weak? Did I mess something up? And suddenly the silence becomes shame. But let's gently shift that today. Just because God is quiet does not mean that he is absent. Think about this. There are moments in life where someone can be completely present without saying a word. Sitting with you, walking beside you, holding space for you. And I think sometimes God's silence is not him stepping away. It's him sitting closer than you realize. We live in a world that is loud, really loud. Constant notifications, constant updates, constant stimulation. So when God doesn't respond immediately, it feels unnatural. But God doesn't operate like an app. He is not sending push notifications every five minutes like, hey, just checking in, still God, still good, carry on. Sometimes his presence is quiet, steady, unmoving. Because he's not trying to keep your attention. He's trying to build your trust. When God speaks clearly, it builds confidence. But when God is silence, it builds trust. Because now you have to decide, do I still believe God is good without constant confirmation? Do I still trust him when I don't feel him? Do I keep walking without seeing the next step? That's a deeper faith. Not based on feelings, not based on signs, not based on instant answers, but rooted in, I know who God is, even when I don't hear him. So let's be honest once more. We don't mind faith when it comes with updates. God said this, I felt this, I got a sign. We all love that. But the second it's quiet, we're like, okay, but like respectfully, I'm gonna need a little confirmation here. And when it doesn't come, that's when anxiety starts whispering louder than truth. Here's a perspective shift I want you to look at. What if God is quiet because he doesn't want you reacting prematurely? What if an immediate answer would overwhelm you? Clarity too soon would lead you to control instead of trust? Knowing everything would remove your need for him? What if silence is not neglect, but protection? Protection from rushing ahead, making fear-based decisions, stepping into something unready. Even Jesus experienced this. On the cross he cried out, Why have you forsaken me? That moment felt like silence, but God had not left. And if Jesus himself experienced a moment that felt like silence, then your silence doesn't disqualify you. It connects you. So if you're sitting in a quiet season right now, I want you to hold on to this. God's silence is not absence. He is still near, still working, still present, even when he's not speaking the way you want. Instead of asking God, why are you silent? What if we ask God, what are you teaching me in this quiet? Because sometimes the silence isn't empty, it's sacred. If it feels quiet right now, if you're not hearing what you hope to hear. If you're wondering where God is in all of it, take a breath. He hasn't gone anywhere. Even in the silence, he is still right here. Alright, it's time for Song of the Week. The song of the week is Sparrows Still Sing. This song is for Saturday, for the in-between, for the nothing is happening but everything feels heavy moments. It's about trusting God when you don't see movement, holding on to hope when it feels quiet, remembering that even in stillness, life is happening. Because sparrows, they still sing, even when the sky looks empty. The full song will be included at the end of the episode, so please stick around. You can find the official lyric video for this song and all of my Christian music on my YouTube channel under Bryn Elise Music. Check it out. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Okay, before we close this episode, I need to tell you something. We're not staying in Saturday. Because what feels quiet right now, what feels buried, what feels like nothing is happening, it is not the end of your story. And next episode, we are not easing into hope. We are stepping into it like the stone didn't just crack. It moved. Because Easter is not subtle. This is not a soft, gentle, barely noticeable miracle. This is death defeated, the impossible reversed, hope breaking through what looked final. This is the moment where heaven interrupts what looked permanent. I am doing a bonus Easter episode on Sunday, and in it we're going to talk about hope that doesn't fall apart just because things look bad. Hope survives silence, disappointment, confusion, even what looks like the end. Because real hope is anchored in who God is, not what your current situation looks like. The stone moved away. Nobody asked for permission. Nobody coordinated it. Nobody made it happen. God moved the stone away. And I don't know who needs to hear this, but God is still in the business of moving things. Obstacles, barriers, situations that look sealed shut. Even when you've already counted it as over. We're going to talk about the worst day, wasn't the final word. Friday looked like failure. Saturday looked like silence. But Sunday? It changed everything. And I think some of us have labeled something in our Our lives as over, done, never happening, when God is still writing the story. Grace is louder than death. Death made a lot of noise. Pain has made a lot of noise. Loss has made a lot of noise. But grace, grace has the final word. And not quietly, not politely, powerfully, undeniably, unmistakably. I want to get real honest with you. If we had been there that morning, we would have been like, okay, but who moved the rock? Because resurrection doesn't fit inside our logic. And that's the point. God doesn't need your understanding to do something miraculous. So if you're in a Saturday right now, this is your reminder. The silence is not the end. The tomb is not permanent. The story is not finished. Because resurrection is already on the way. So don't miss the Easter episode. This is not just another episode. It is a shift. From waiting to breakthrough, silence to declaration. Resurrection is not subtle. The bonus Easter episode dropping next is resurrection is not subtle. And we're not whispering hope. We're declaring it. Let's pray together. God, for every person sitting in a Saturday season, where things feel quiet, uncertain, and unresolved, remind them that you are still working. Help us trust you even when we don't see movement. Help us stay grounded when our emotions want to spiral. Help us wait without losing hope. And God, when it feels like something has been buried, remind us you are the God of resurrection. We trust you. Even here, even now. In Jesus' name. Amen. If this episode spoke to you, first of all, you are not alone in your Saturday. And second, we don't just do this once a week. Join the Divine Shenanigans community on YouTube, Substat, School, and Facebook. This is where we keep faith going all week long, not just on Thursday podcast episodes. And hey, if you feel yourself starting to spiral this week, come on back here. We've got encouragement, prayers, and reminders waiting for you. Alright, my friend, stay steady in the silence. Sunday is closer than it looks. And I'll see you right back here for more Divine Shenanigans next week.

SPEAKER_01 25:12

In the quiet of the morning, when the world forgets to praise, there's a choir in the branches lifting hope into the haze. They don't worry what they're wearing, don't need stages like fame. Still their song is heard in heaven, and it echoes through his name. Sparrows still sing, even small voices arise, carrying graze through the open skies. They may go unnoticed by the world's big stage. But God hears them clear. Every note, every phrase. So if you feel insane in the shadows you bring, lift up your heart. Cause pharaohs still sing. There's no measure on the volume, no auditions for his love. He delights in the surrender, not the spotlight rising up. You are made to hum your story, even cracked and trembling true. What feels like a whisper might be heaven's breakthrough. Even small voices arise, carrying grey through the open skies. They may go unnoticed by the world's big stage. But God hears them clear. Every note, every phrase. So if you feel insane, in the shadows you bring, lift up your heart. Cause sparrows still sing. Let the melody find you, let the silence break. Even broken hallelujas are more than enough to make sparrows still sing through the wind and the rain. In the still of the storm or the ache of the pain, your voice is a vessel, your breath is a strict, he's tuning your life to the anthem you bring. So rise even quietly. You are you are held. And sparrows still sing.