Good Friday or Bad Friday?

Is today Good Friday or Bad Friday?

The question appeared in a set of meditations that my church provided for those who chose to do an hour of watch with the Sacrament, from Maundy Thursday through the night to noon on Good Friday. Late last night (or rather, very early this morning, as my watch ended at 12:30 AM) I didn’t think very hard about it: of course it’s good Friday. How could it be otherwise? And I went on to the next section of meditations.

This afternoon, slightly more awake, I found myself thinking more about that question. It’s a simple question, but it resonates with what I’ve been thinking about today.

What if Jesus were simply a profoundly wise and spiritual human being with a message of peace and love for us? What if the Holy Spirit is just another name for the feelings of love we have for one another, for our more altruistic impulses? What if the Father is a way of conceptualizing the creative energies of the universe, so that, in honoring the Father, we are really honoring the life force that drives each of us? These are all ways that Christianity gets positioned in the global marketplace of ideas, these days: repackaged for post-modern palatability. Easy to digest. Easy to tolerate – one way among many to reach personal happiness and spiritual health.

Except that if that were what’s true, then today would be a very bad Friday indeed.

It would mean that there is no escaping sin and death; that we have nothing to rely on except ourselves to save ourselves. And if we honestly look around at the world, and honestly look inside, that’s a bleak proposition. It means we’ll go on killing or rejecting the people who love us and want to help us, and we’ll go on nodding our heads at good advice and keeping to our old bad habits, and we’ll cling to the shallow, fragile things of this world for gratification and wonder why we’re so unhappy as everything seems to turn to sand between our fingers. With no way out. Nothing to break the cycle for anyone.

Is that really it? Looking at the headlines of the news, on any given day, it might seem like that.

But that’s not what’s true. Christ died – yes. But He is also risen; and that makes all the difference.

Today I added this to my list of surprises: I never thought I’d be moved to tears in the middle of a crowded church service. But hearing the sermon on the Lamb of God, who was the once and for all sacrifice for our sins; hearing the solemn Passion narrative of Christ crucified, dying, taken to the tomb; seeing the altar and sanctuary stripped of all their ornaments; recognizing that He went to the Cross willingly, because He loves us.

But not just “us.” Not just humanity in the abstract – that’s easy, too easy. And not just an intellectual understanding of the reality of the Resurrection, though that was foundational. No – what filled my heart and brought tears to my eyes was realizing that He went to the Cross for me – to redeem me from the bondage of my sins. A year ago at this time, I didn’t even recognize Him as my Savior, and yet He died for me… and called me to Him, and made me part of His family.

That kind of generosity, that kind of mercy – there’s no adequate human response to that. Or rather, there’s only one: to say, It is all Yours, Lord. Everything I have and everything I am, is Yours; I give myself to You; use me for Your greater glory.

Christ died; but today is, indeed, Good Friday; for He died for me – for all of us – and He is risen.

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