It seems ironic to call it “Good Friday.” Jesus Christ died a horrific, demoralizing, painful death on this day. But I have came to understand that if I look at what He actually accomplished, I can see how “good” this day actually is.
When I saw the movie “The Passion,” directed by Mel Gibson, I could hardly breathe watching Jesus being flogged. It felt like I was there and the cinematography was so graphic I felt ill. I remember Him being made to carry his own wooden cross to Golgotha. It was the ultimate humiliation. He could barely stand after his beating and so someone else was made to carry the cross while he walked the streets of Jerusalem towards his destination. How he made it to Calvary is a mystery to me. He had to have super strength physically and determination beyond comprehension to willingly comply. Last year I walked this route, the Via Dolorosa, in Jerusalem. I saw all of the Stations of the Cross and even put my hand on the wall where Jesus was known to have stopped to rest. It was surreal touching where that event took place some 2000 years ago. Every nationality you could think of speaking dozens of different languages were all there doing the same thing as well.
What touched me most deeply was standing in the cave cell where Jesus was thrust after conviction. I had the realization of how he was unjustly accused, convicted and abandoned by everyone in that moment. He KNEW suffering in a physical AND psychological sense. The despair one would have under those circumstances! And then he had to go through with the inhumane flogging by the leather strips having metal barbs. The psychological pain prior of knowing what was to come had to be unbearable. It makes complete sense He would pray in the Garden of Gethsemane for “this cup to be taken from me, but not my will, yours be done.”
Peering at the cross were the eyes of Golgotha or the “eyes of the skull.” Jesus was hung on the cross there and we were able to touch the stone on which He was known to be crucified. We now know that the end was not the end. It was actually the beginning! Because as scriptures foretold, He rose again on the “third day.” He conquered death, physical suffering, psychological torture, and emotional loss of relationships. He experienced firsthand everything painful any of us could ever experience. He overcame everything and redeemed us in the process! Even the Roman executioner saw afterwards that He was the Son of God. The reason it is such a GOOD FRIDAY is because we are redeemed for eternity by His grace and His suffering. He conquered death and sin for us all. It is a very, very good day!
As an old textbook from many years ago attested, “Good Friday is good because with it, Jesus purchased for us salvation and with it, every blessing.”
Easter is coming soon after Lenten season and celebration of our risen Savior will be at last. It also brings with it plenty of interesting family memories. We have accrued a few that will surely be passed down through the family annals.
The tradition of dying real, hard boiled eggs is a mystery to me. I’ve never escaped the ritual nor come away with anything but discolored fingertips every Easter morning. However, it’s a tradition and the Turners don’t ask questions, we just do. On one Easter eve many years ago, my husband hid all the colored eggs INSIDE our house. There were almost three dozen and I was a bit upset to find dye on way more than the eggs. Plus, someone needs to REMEMBER where they were hidden, right? A belated found egg could result in an unwelcome stench. The following year I begged, pleaded, and nearly cried to have them hidden outside in the childrens’ play-yard instead. Their dad reluctantly agreed and all were hidden safely outside the night before. Unforeseen circumstances had it that a raccoon must have been watching and grinning nearby because on Easter morning, only two eggs could be found and many shells laid scattered. No one sided with mama after that so all future eggs were hidden back INSIDE our house once again.
On another Easter occasion, we had a parent’s nightmare. The family dog, Fluffy, was big, fat and named after the three headed Rottweiler off Harry Potter. He was loving and tolerant of childrens’ antics but a demon when it came to small rodents or cats. So, luck would have it that bright and early on Easter morning, Fluffy had just so happened to chase, catch, and kill a bunny RIGHT OUTSIDE our home. Neither us parents noticed until too late and the boys saw the evidence. One then cried, “Fluffy ate the Easter Bunny!!!” It was a gruesome sight and difficult to explain it wasn’t THE Easter Bunny but just happened to be a rabbit he caught. Those four young, sad, quizzical faces will be imprinted in our minds forever.
Easter morning pictures were somehow mandatory and I want to cold cock whoever said it had to be done. I’d force dress up the boys and our daughter would dutifully don her new Easter outfit. Then I’d attempt to stage a photo before we left for church. This was a necessity because it also became a tradition for our sons to roll down the green knoll outside the church in a pile each Sunday.
Somehow, we got through all the traditions and now we just attempt at dying eggs as there are less takers. I try to avoid the “duty of dye” and have relaxed all my Easter expectations. A little dye, unmatched outfits and the dreaded family pic are all in the past. Now I just wish to have all four home on Easter. A colorful jewel-toned egg would even be a welcome site peeking out behind a pillow.