Good Friday

We closed our service yesterday evening with a very quiet singing of "Were You There."


The cross was draped in black. The communion table was stripped bare. The lights were dimmed. The candles were blown out. As we closed the service we began our days of mourning for our Lord.

Now I'm off to prepare for our Good Friday services with a heavy heart. The Protestant inclination is usually to keep reminding one another, "It's okay! Easter is coming! Sunday is coming!"


But the disciples didn't know that. Their leader was dead.


Theologian N.T. Wright puts it this way: “When Jesus was crucified, every single disciple knew what it meant: we backed the wrong horse. The game is over. Whatever their expectations, and however Jesus had been trying to redefine those expectations, as far as they were concerned, hope had crumbled into ashes. They knew they were lucky to escape with their own lives.” (Surprised by Hope)


These next two days are the darkest in our church calendar. Christ has died. Hope is gone. It's over.


For Easter to have meaning, we must enter into Good Friday first.


My church has been reading through the Psalms this Lenten season, and today's Psalm gives a picture of the grief and sadness that was to come on Good Friday. It's one of the only Psalms that ends in sadness, without a return to the joy of praising God. 


It's a fitting picture for Good Friday, as we grieve with Christ's first disciples.


Psalm 88
¹ O Lord, God of my salvation,
      I cry out to you by day.
      I come to you at night.
 ² Now hear my prayer;
      listen to my cry.
 ³ For my life is full of troubles,
      and death draws near.
 ⁴ I am as good as dead,
      like a strong man with no strength left.
 ⁵ They have left me among the dead,
      and I lie like a corpse in a grave.
   I am forgotten,
      cut off from your care.
 ⁶ You have thrown me into the lowest pit,
      into the darkest depths.
 ⁷ Your anger weighs me down;
      with wave after wave you have engulfed me.
 ⁸ You have driven my friends away
      by making me repulsive to them.
   I am in a trap with no way of escape.
    ⁹ My eyes are blinded by my tears.
   Each day I beg for your help, O Lord;
      I lift my hands to you for mercy.
 ¹⁰ Are your wonderful deeds of any use to the dead?
      Do the dead rise up and praise you?
 ¹¹ Can those in the grave declare your unfailing love?
      Can they proclaim your faithfulness in the place of destruction?^[c]
 12 Can the darkness speak of your wonderful deeds?
      Can anyone in the land of forgetfulness talk about your righteousness?
 ¹³ O Lord, I cry out to you.
      I will keep on pleading day by day.
 ¹⁴ O Lord, why do you reject me?
      Why do you turn your face from me?
 ¹⁵ I have been sick and close to death since my youth.
      I stand helpless and desperate before your terrors.
 ¹⁶ Your fierce anger has overwhelmed me.
      Your terrors have paralyzed me.
 ¹⁷ They swirl around me like floodwaters all day long.
      They have engulfed me completely.
 ¹⁸ You have taken away my companions and loved ones.
      Darkness is my closest friend.

These days are the hardest for me of the year, which I think makes them even more important. I don't like suffering. I like joy. Don't we all? Which is what makes these dark days an important lesson.

Blessed be Jesus, who died for us.