Good Friday

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Winter’s back. It was cold and wet today, and walking around outside wasn’t very fun. I had to dig through my closet and find winter clothes that looked spring-ish. I had to get up early to finish a reading assignment that couldn’t happen the night before, and two cups of coffee didn’t help the weariness much.

But today was a Good Friday.

I was always puzzled about why we call Good Friday Good Friday. I couldn’t stand the crucifixion story as a child. I couldn’t bear that Jesus should be beaten and belittled, have thorns driven into His scalp, or be spat upon. I hated how they strung Him up like a criminal. Jesus, the Son of God, Who had done no harm. Jesus, Who had healed hundreds, calmed storms at sea, gave blind men sight, fed the five thousand. It was not a good Friday for Jesus. It was the worst possible Friday. The spotless Lamb of God was soiled with all the smut of the world.

But it was such a Good Friday for us. And He knew it.

He died to tear down the divide between man and God. He died so we wouldn’t have to. He died so we could live.

Without Him, my life would be empty and hopeless. If He had never died, I would never have learned to live.

So yes, even on this rainy day, I could be grateful for a Good Friday. What is one dark day compared to eternity?

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