Is it Really Good Friday?
It's Good Friday. I've always struggled with that title. When do we say a day is good when someone dies? I know the answer. I know Good Friday marks the day Jesus died on the cross, taking on the sins of the world to die with Him. But right now I'm considering the moment he washes the feet of his betrayer. The time he spends praying in agony, anticipating the torture he will endure. His best friends deserting Him. Being accused of countless lies, and choosing to remain silent. The angry faces of men and women shouting "Crucify!" knowing it was for these souls He would choose to die. The agonizing scourging before being mocked and spit upon by soldiers. The rough wood on His torn flesh as he struggles to carry His cross uphill. Being placed on display, naked, before His own mother. Offering hope to a thief even as He struggles to breathe. Finally, completing the work He came to earth to do and breathing His last. Could anything but supernatural love spur this