I asked the Lord this morning, “Why would we call this day of remembrance, good? Wasn’t this the worst day of all—Your public, gruesome execution?” Of all the titles we could come up with: Broken Friday, Awful Friday, Crying Friday—anything feels truer than, Good Friday.
My love makes it good, whispered the One who said, “I make all things new.”
The love of God redeems every dreadful thing…even our one uncontrollable soul.
It would only take one pair of hands to whip an innocent’s flesh till he’s practically dead. One heavy hammer is quite enough to crush the feet and hands of a bound man. Just one skilled soldier would know where to thrust a spear—just below the left rib cage, driving it up into the heart—making certain the breath of life drains out. But it was for every one of our beating, bloody hearts Jesus died—yours and mine.
It’s not just a day. It’s a holy pathway. It’s a parting of the raging sea within us. A fleeing from Egypt. It’s a crossing of the wilderness as the Lamb of God surrounds us. A lantern before our feet. The shield against our enemies. The sword and helmet protecting our defenseless head. The day of the Savior’s death is a good day for the broken and contrite, the lost who long to be found, the blind who desire to see: to live is Christ and to die is gain.
We’re joining at six o’clock to remember the day Jesus suffered and died taking our sins away. We’ll bend at the altar with candles burning bright, speak the living word like tongues of fire. And we’ll sing, oh we’ll sing—like children whose hearts are light, giving thanks to our Father into the night. And lo and behold what we thought to offer Him—will fill us with more praise than our hearts carried in.
“I have been crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20)