Between The Empty Tomb And The Upper Room

[Note: Today’s guest blogger is Rev. Alvin Simpson, the Assistant Music Director of Mass Choir at Spiritus. We’re grateful for all of the love and energy that Alvin brings to our liturgies each week and appreciate this blog contribution as well. In today’s blog, he not only provides a reflection but he offers a soundtrack as well!]

Between the Empty Tomb and the Upper Room – A reflection for the in-between space

There’s something sacred about the “in-between.”

Not the loud moments.
Not the headline miracles.
But the quiet stretch after the stone has been rolled away… and before the fire falls.

We celebrate Resurrection Sunday with full hearts—He is risen! And rightly so. The victory is real, the grave is empty, and death has lost its sting.

But then what?

Because if we’re honest, life doesn’t always feel like resurrection right after Easter.
Sometimes it feels like… waiting.

The Disciples Knew That Feeling

After the resurrection, Jesus didn’t immediately send the disciples out with full clarity and power. Instead, there was this stretch of time where they were:

• Seeing Him… but not always recognizing Him
• Hearing Him… but not fully understanding
• Believing… but still carrying questions

In Acts 1:4, Jesus gives a simple but weighty instruction: “Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait…”

Wait.
Not build.
Not preach.
Not fix it.
Just… wait.

And if we’re honest, waiting doesn’t come with a soundtrack we naturally like. We prefer songs of victory. Songs of movement.

But there’s a different kind of music that carries you in the in-between.

The Soundtrack of Waiting

Sometimes the only thing that keeps your faith steady in this season is what you sing—or what sings over you.

There are moments when your spirit echoes the quiet confidence of Wait on the Lord by Donnie McClurkin: “Wait on the Lord… He will renew your strength…”

Not hype. Not rush. Just steady reassurance that God is not late.

And then there are days when your prayer sounds like Take Me to the King by Tamela Mann: “Truth is I’m tired… options are few…”

Because let’s be real—waiting will expose your fatigue. It will bring you face to face with your limits. But even that becomes worship when you bring it honestly to God.

The Tension of Knowing… But Not Yet Seeing

This space between Easter and Pentecost is filled with tension.

You know something has changed.
You know God has moved.
But you don’t yet see the full picture.

It’s the feeling captured so well in Do It Again by Elevation Worship: “I’ve seen You move, You move the mountains… and I believe I’ll see You do it again…”

That’s the in-between language.
It’s not denial of what God has done.
It’s not doubt of what He can do.
It’s standing right in the middle—holding memory in one hand and expectation in the other.

Breakfast on the Shore (And Other Gentle Moments)

In John 21, the disciples go back to fishing. Not because they’ve quit… but because they don’t quite know what’s next.

And Jesus meets them there.
Not with pressure.
Not with a sermon.
But with provision.

Sometimes the in-between doesn’t sound like a choir—it sounds like quiet reassurance. Like the heart of Jireh by Maverick City Music: “You are enough… so I will be content in every circumstance…”

That’s a hard confession when you’re waiting. But it’s a necessary one. Because if God is enough in the waiting, you won’t lose yourself before the promise shows up.

Waiting Is Not Wasted

We tend to treat waiting like empty space. But heaven treats it like preparation. In Luke 24:49, Jesus says they will be “clothed with power.”

Clothed. That means something is being fitted.

And maybe that’s why songs like Oceans (Where Feet May Fail) by Hillsong United resonate so deeply: “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders…”

Because waiting stretches you.
It deepens your trust.
It strips your need for control.
It teaches you how to follow before you’re sent.

The Promise of Pentecost

Pentecost is loud. Fire. Wind. Boldness.

But it was birthed out of quiet obedience. The same disciples who were unsure… became unstoppable.

And if there were a sound to that transformation, it might echo the confidence of Never Lost by CeCe Winans: “You can do all things but fail… ‘cause You’ve never lost a battle…”

That’s not just a victory song. That’s a post-waiting song.

That’s what comes when you’ve seen God carry you through the silence and still show up in power.

A Gentle Question for This Season

What if this season isn’t about doing more… but about learning a new song?

Not a performance.
Not a show.
But a deeper rhythm of trust.

A Closing Thought

We love resurrection songs. We love Pentecost praise breaks. But don’t overlook the worship that happens in between.

It’s quieter. More honest. Sometimes even a little broken.

But it’s real.

So if you find yourself here—between what God has done and what He’s about to do—lean into the music of this moment.

Let it remind you:

• You’re not forgotten
• You’re not behind
• You’re being prepared

Because the same God who got up from the grave… and the same God who filled the upper room…Is the same God who will meet you right here—

In the waiting.