Can we talk? About today? I need to be honest about my thoughts on this Good Friday.
Today marks the anniversary of Your death. If I were honest, I'd say I'm right beside You today. I feel stripped of everything I've known: exposed and on display, and bleeding from every pore.
Last night marked the night You went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. I read that You sweat drops of blood. I, too, spent last night in prayer and agony. The difference is that You were praying to avoid death, and I'm not certain I would do the same right now.
So the world mourned Your death, and darkness covered the land. There was thunder and lightning and monumental events. Today, there is sunshine and deafening silence and mundane events and nobody knows I'm dying a thousand deaths every hour.
But the purpose of Your death was to redeem us, and to bring us hope. So I'm here today, saying thanks for that. Because even small steps in the right direction are steps, and You have a history of moving toward those who move toward You. So I prayed over his feet last night, because I think he's a good man who just needs You to order his steps: to put his steps in order, as it were. First toward You, then toward me.
When they took Your body off the cross, everything on Your shoulders moved to the grave. The burden of our sin, the weight of our cares, and the tears of our shattered hearts. I believe You left it all in the grave; so when You tell us to take every thought captive, we can bury the unproductive thoughts where they belong. So I prayed over his head last night, too: that if he's too weak to take his thoughts captive, You would stand in the gap. Send him thoughts of worth and value, and steer him away from thoughts of defeat.
Sunday is coming. You rose victorious. I will rise, too. I just have to get through these nights in the dark. Sealing my sorrows in Your empty grave, and waiting for the promise of a Sunday sunrise, where every chain is broken.
Every chain. Even addiction. Every addiction.
And that will make today *my* Good Friday. *His* Good Friday. Your are good...even on Good Friday.