Terrible Good Friday
5 min read
49 But all those who knew him, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.
— Luke 23:49
I wonder what those first disciples must have been experiencing as they watched Jesus die.
There have been maybe two or three or so moments in my life where I have felt like my entire world was crumbling from underneath my feet. Being laid off from a job that I had come out to California for after 8.5 years; being coolly and casually let go from a position that I was not really vetted for but had uprooted my family for; and maybe a couple of moments of desperation in my marriage.
In those moments, you come to learn some things about the world and especially about yourself. In those moments, there is plenty of opportunity for finger-pointing. Everyone involved is to blame in some way. Such is the world. We are all broken, and the “good” things that we want to do are often (if not mostly) corrupted by the sin that is implanted in our spiritual DNA.
In the end, everything comes down to personal survival—material, emotional, psychological, spiritual survival.
As a believer, the sin of this world is a given, and you can only kick the world so much for its evil before your foot starts to break. We must never weigh the sin of others to be greater than our own. It will save you a foot, at least.
Because there’s nothing that any of us can ever do about the sin of this world. The only thing that could ever possibly be done about the sin of this world was done, and it was done definitively, once and for all on Good Friday about 1,991-1,994 years ago in Jerusalem at Calvary .
It dawns on me that Good Friday was not so “good” for Jesus. It was a terrible Friday for Jesus. And because He had a terrible Friday, every single one of us has the opportunity for a truly “good” Good Friday.
But the “goodness” of Good Friday is not such that we can be exuberant about Jesus’s suffering the wrath of God on our behalf. We ought to be quite remorseful—remorseful about the sin of me, myself, and I that sent Jesus, the Son of God, to the cross.
And yet, in that remorse—true remorse—there is a great catharsis—a holy catharsis, a deep emotional, psychological, spiritual cleansing—and if we would allow the Holy Spirit to guide us, a material cleansing too.
As we share the cup and break the bread at the Lord’s Table together tonight, may we all experience a true and holy catharsis, knowing that all the sin of me, myself, and I has been paid for and washed away on the cross in Christ.
Father, You are good beyond comprehension. Thank You for the cross. Thank You for forgiving me. Thank You for saving me. Thank You for calling me. Cleanse me with the blood of Christ. Purify me with the fire of Your Spirit. Wash away the stains and burn away the chaff. Be glorified in Your servant. In Jesus’s name. Amen.