I was told
tonight of a moving letter written by a church member who had realized what
Good Friday meant to him. As I listened
to the recounting of the words that this person used and said, “Amen!” I was also given pause to think about what
Good Friday meant to me.
I worry that in
modern Christianity, or in predominantly western protestant denominations to be
a bit more precise, we have come to a place in which we are all too often
satisfied to skip over Good Friday so we can get to the good stuff of
Easter. In a celebration of Jesus’
resurrection, we get to spend time enjoying the good news of our
salvation. In remembering Christ’s
sacrifice, we are reminded of our failings and a call to be better through a
sacrificial existence, modeled by our King.
Sunday morning we get candy and baskets and wear our new Easter outfits…
Friday evening if we take time to reflect, we get to think about depressing things,
and images that are just too ugly and foreign to comprehend, plus, no
candy. Sunrise service reminds us that
“Up From the Grave He Arose”! Friday
reminds us that our shame and sin put Him in the grave in the first place. Easter Sunday reminds us that Jesus goes to
prepare a place for us… Good Friday reminds us that His love was meant to
transform us as we are freed from sin and death through His pardon and
atonement; and we hate to be reminded that we need those things in the first
place.
