Good Friday

I had these big plans of what my Good Friday would look like.

I knew I had to work, so extra effort would have to be made. I'd get up early, read my Bible, pray, and listen to worship music on the way to work. I'd arrive, happy and grateful for the great sacrifice Jesus made for me. My attitude would be great as I had taken time to contemplate all he had done for me.

Reality: I drove to work with head back on the headrest, eyes half-open, listening to Cake. Now, I'm sitting in the parking lot with my bad attitude and Benadryl hangover, waiting till the last possible minute to walk in. 

Oh yeah, I read my bible before I came. I had to remind myself 27 times to focus. Hey, dumbie, this is important! Stop thinking about what you're going to eat or how many nights you have left at work. Yeah, it didn't go that well.

I totally failed at that contemplative, repentant thing we're supposed to do on Good Friday.

But isn't that when the cross means more?

When I'm down in the muck that is real life, and all I can do is half-heartedly look at the cross for a minute, is that not when the beauty of it is most evident?

I wouldn't need the cross if I could righteously pull myself up by my boot straps. 

I need the cross because I'm not getting it right. I need the blood of Jesus to cover me because otherwise I'm covered in filth. Because I can't muster up the strength to get it right. 

So, maybe my Good Friday service is a lot different than the ones you'll be going to. But his blood is beautiful, needed, and undeserved for me, as much as it is for you.

My Good Friday service is ugly, because my sin is ugly. And I'm full of it. But I also have a perfect sacrifice poured out over me that brings me to the presence of God. If that's not a mystery worth bowing in awe of, there isn't one.

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

Isaiah 53:5-6