Good Friday. actually most fridays are good.
but this one, well, it’s really not so good.

it was probably the worst friday for a lot of people present.

in the past, i’ve seen Good Friday as simply the day Jesus died. almost with the same sentiment as lincoln’s birthday.

that doesn’t mean i’ve taken for granted the significance of the day. i attempt to live out a faith that is very much affected by the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

but the actual day of remembrance hasn’t always been remembered.

but as i get older, especially this year, the emotional weight of the day is heavier.
not because of the brutal death, although it was horrific.
or the betrayals or denials.
but because of the people.

you see, Jesus knew what was going to happen. He knew how bad it was going to be. and He knew that the cross wasn’t the end.
but the people who followed Him . . . well, it sure felt like the end to them.

and i think to appreciate how they felt, you’ve had to hope in something that seemed to end. something that didn’t turn out the way you dreamed it would.
something that left you disillusioned. maybe even a little bitter. and incredibly sad.

a pregnancy that ended because of the absence of a heartbeat.
a thriving career that abruptly stopped because of the decisions of others.
health that has faded, and so has your ability to engage in the things you love the most.
anything that once held great promise and fueled hope, but now has left you confused, discouraged and even a little abandoned.

it was a good Friday in the big picture, but the heartache of that day went so much deeper than seeing a friend executed.
it was also about hopes and dreams being nailed to a Cross.

the hope for freedom for people who falsely believed Jesus would bring a new earthly kingdom.
the hope for a different life for the disciples who gave up everything to follow Jesus.
the hope to live in a new world where men and women, sick and healthy, poor and rich could all be united for one reason.

God had been silent for 400 years before Jesus.
Jesus came, lived, spoke, loved.
now God seemed silent again.

and the silence was even more deafening this time. because they knew God could speak.

i’m not sure how to honor Good Friday.
i know personally, there’s always been a heaviness, sadness i feel on this day. almost the same way i remember my mom’s death every may, a lingering grief that i can’t always explain until i remember “oh yeah. it’s today.”

and now, as i get older and have experienced various things in my life, i have a different perspective on the day.
i can see how death was so pervasive the day—the physical death of Jesus.
the death of hope.
the death of perceived identity.
the death of so many things.

and while it felt so intense, so devastating.
it was only temporary—even if it felt like the end.

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