Good Friday

Visually I am often offended on Good Friday. I often find the artwork that is used by churches to be too tame, too mundane, and too polished. I find no meaning in artwork that masquerades as meaningful when it pictures a suffering Christ with little blood, with mild anguish on his face, with a sense of being tired not crushed by the blows of the whip, the weight of the cross, or the pain of denial of friends.

I have to admit, I really appreciated Mel Gibson's Passion of the Christ for that reason. Yes, it was graphic, gruesomegory and any other description you want to give it, but for me, it was real. It was the truth of what Jesus experienced. And I want to see that to remind me of what Jesus experienced on my behalf.

For me, Good Friday holds an important place in the story of Christ. It's not necessarily because of the obvious fact that Christ died on Good Friday, there's more to it than that. For me it is the moment, the darkest moment when things can really get no worse. The moment when nothing imagined could be colder, darker, more painful, or more lonely.

It's Friday, but Sunday's coming.

I recall a time when I was maybe 8 years old (I don't know exactly) and I attended the Good Friday service at my church. I don't recall the words that the pastor used, but I remember them having a profound affect on me. I remember crying my eyes out (and my mom asking what was wrong - and I don't know if I ever told her) and I remember through those tears thinking, "Jesus did this for me."

What a profound insight (yes, I'm proud of myself).

In that moment on Good Friday, as a young boy, I sat in the church knowing that the suffering of Christ was not for a faceless humanity, but that Christ died for me.

It was Friday, but Sunday's coming.

There is a hope in the moment. Yes, the hope is in the resurrection, in Easter, and this is the lens that we read the Good Friday story through today. But I also believe that Jesus held a hope on Good Friday. A trust, a love for humanity that said, "this suffering will not be in vain."

It's Friday, but Sunday's coming.

It is that hope that I celebrate and reflect on during this season.

I recall sitting in an arena in Dallas in 1991 hearing Tony Campolo share the very words, "It's Friday, but Sunday's coming." Campolo even wrote a book that shares this very story, a book that I treasure to this day, in that book he retells this story of an epic sermon he heard preached. The Sermon was framed around the lines ‘it’s Friday but Sunday’s coming!’

It was Friday;
it was Friday and my Jesus was dead on the cross.

But that was Friday and Sunday’s comin’!

It was Friday and Mary was cryin’ her eyes out.
The disciples were runnin’ in every direction,
like sheep without a Shepherd,
but that was Friday. Sunday’s comin’!

And so he said the Sermon continued, building in volume and power all the time.

It was Friday.
The cynics were lookin’ at the world and saying;
you can’t change anything.
But those cynics didn’t know it was Friday.
Sunday’s comin’!”

Tony recorded that the sermon reached such an excitement that when the preacher delivered the final, “It’s Friday!” the whole congregation roared back, “BUT SUNDAY’S COMIN’!”

It is my prayer that it is that meaning that fills us all this Good Friday.