Good Friday

We had the day off today to celebrate (remember?) Good Friday. It’s always hard to know what the appropriate attitude is for the day. Do I dress in dark colors? Sit and brood all day? Try to be pensive?

In the past, I have approached the day as if I were going to a funeral service for my friend. And, in a way, that’s appropriate, because I am. But here’s the thing, I always kind of feel like I’m faking it because I know the end of the story. I’m grateful that the story of Christ didn’t end with Good Friday and his death on the cross. I’m grateful that even as I remember the sacrifice Christ made as he took the punishment for my sins, that we can look ahead with anticipation to the third day. It seems crazy to believe in a resurrection, and in my weaker moments, I confess that I find it difficult. But the fact that remains for me is that I have encountered Jesus in all too real a way to ever let those seeds of doubt take root in my soul. I am grateful for Jesus’ death on the cross. I am grateful that since the beginning of time there was a plan for human salvation. I am grateful that even being fully man, Jesus did not shy from the mission for which he was called to earth. And as I head to church for the Good Friday service, I am grateful that while we may sit in darkness for a few days, the story continues to the Resurrection.


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