A few Easter thoughts two days after the event. No excuse except that I’ve been busy (just like you) and because I had to think through a lot of things before posting.
On Friday morning as I was nearing the end of my walk, I began to think about the events of that day, the one when Christ had to wear a crown of thorns and carry His cross to Golgotha. Once on the scene, He was nailed to the cross to suffer, bleed, and die. For the first time, the enormity of the sacrifice and the physical and emotional torment He must have endured hit me squarely in the heart. Why do we call it Good Friday? I wondered. I had honestly never given this a thought until Friday morning when I called out, “Happy Good Friday” to a neighbor. He returned the greeting and shared that it was surely going to be a good Friday for him because he had the day off.
About a block away, I got off the beaten path and googled the question: why is Good Friday called Good Friday? There were several possible answers, but the one I’m going with is from al.com: The term “Good” as applied to Good Friday is an Old English expression meaning holy and is often called Holy Friday.
Still, there’s no doubt that Friday wasn’t a good day for Jesus. Yet Sunday came, and we know the rest of the story. The tomb was empty; Christ had been resurrected.
Sometimes, I have to have things pointed out to me before I can see their significance. While listening to a podcast about hope on Friday, I learned that the crucifixion and resurrection can apply to situations in our lives. Whether sickness, loss, pain, loneliness, rejection, disappointment, or some other type of misery, we all have struggles. We all have Fridays. Yet, as the podcast reminded me: Sunday always comes.
Gossip and Solitude 