Good
My favorite thing about Easter is that it almost didn’t happen.
And by that I mean the night, last night, in the garden when he wanted out.
I’ve always felt we jump too fast to the “Not my will but Your will” part. We are ushered quickly into that, and there I am looking out the window backward to where all my attention is arrested with, “…wait a minute. What do you mean, ‘is there any other way?’”
He wanted out.
I’ve always liked that.
Because it’s human.
I like this too (don’t recall where I heard it):
“Everything will be fine in the end.
If it’s not fine…it’s not the end.”
That this day ever got tagged as Good is as much artistic license as ever I’ve come across. Everything gone wrong in every conceivable way. Smack dab in the middle of the most furious tension played out on the world’s stage…and exactly where God wanted him to be. Where He needed him to be. Beaten to a thing unrecognizable.
My good friend Bob Beltz happened to be involved in the making of The Passion movie and once told me that “though the onscreen portrayal of the crucifixion is indeed brutal…it is actually only about 75% (at best) of what it was really like. ‘We just couldn’t put the real thing on screen and hope to see it hit theaters. It was, after all, murder. And not a very clean one.’”
Words fail.
And as my pal Jeff over at Gravesland posted this morning on Facebook, “It’s Friday…”
Good Friday.
Good?
Really?
Yeah. Really.
Because it’s Friday…but Sunday’s comin’.
And thank you God for that, because I would never have had a chance on my own.