On this Good Friday, it’s easy to forget what the day really means. Most of us think about the fact that we are off work or out of school. Perhaps we complain that there’s no mail or that banks may be closed today.
But let’s not forget what this day is really commemorating. For those of us in the Christian faith, today we remember our Savior’s ultimate expression of love for us. Yesterday we remembered Jesus’s final meal with his disciples, what we call The Last Supper. His twelve closest and most trusted friends, betrayed by one of those twelve, denied by another.
Today we remember that our Lord was betrayed, beaten, wrongfully accused and tried, tortured, and brutally crucified on a tree. We can only imagine the grief his mother Mary endured, seeing Him up there. We wonder what was going through the mind of the disciple Jesus loved (John) when Jesus said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son,” and to John “Here is your mother.” (John 19:26-27)
Can we possibly understand what the centurion might have thought and felt when Jesus gave up his life and the veil was torn when he said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:39)? Can we grasp the compassion Joseph of Arimathea had when he went to Pilate to request the body for burial?
In our world today, I doubt we can understand the full weight and measure of those particular events. We are born into a world of sin, and can chose to accept or reject this incomprehensible gift. Why would someone love us so much that they would sacrifice their life (and the life of their only son) for us? This is an agape love that we just never can understand.
But understanding isn’t required, only obedience to God. We choose to accept this gift of grace (getting something we don’t deserve) and salvation, and make Him Lord of our lives. Today we remember His sacrifice and love for us, and hopefully those who haven’t made their decision yet will join us in choosing to follow Jesus and make Him the Lord of their lives as well.
Remember Good Friday people. And as Tony Campolo says, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s a comin.”