I can’t help but think about how the followers of Jesus must have felt as they watched Him be mocked, crucified and die a death He didn’t deserve. You see, we can see Sunday as we look back to the cross, but on that day upon Calvary’s hill, their broken hearts wouldn’t allow them to see past Friday as they looked up to the cross. It wasn’t “good” in that moment. It was somber beyond what we can even begin to fathom. As I woke up this morning, my heart has felt a tiny piece of what Mary felt as she watched her son be delivered to Pilate and hang lifeless, beyond recognition beside two thieves. Every few minutes I will hear an onset of rain outside, as I sit comfortably on my couch, reading about how Jesus was charged by Pilate and the shouts of the crowd to “crucify him!” were taking place around the time many years ago as I am typing these words. I am sure that the heart of Jesus in that very moment was so deeply saddened that he wept physically and/or spiritually so much that it was like a downpour from heaven within his soul…dying for someone that is putting you to death! My heart is heavier than it has ever been on a Good Friday. I guess because I feel the sorrow through the writer who walked beside Him, but also because of all this sadness, I have the Comforter (Holy Ghost) within me…personally sent by the Savior who died for me. That gives me cold chills as my fingers try to type the overflowing that is within my heart this morning.
In 2019, I can see that Friday is good. I can see Sunday ahead. I can see the finished work on Calvary. But to have rejoicing on Sunday, I must reflect on the pain and suffering it took to get there.
Without His pain, I would have no promise.
Without His death, I would have no life.
Without Good Friday, there would be no Easter Sunday.
