There’s something about Good Friday that brings up a myriad of emotions in me. It’s a time of reflection, a time of emotional loss, and a time of almost expectant suspension. I have always loved Easter and never hated Good Friday but ever since I was a child I felt Good Friday and the sense of loss keenly. I’ve always felt, as long as I can remember, that there was a price to pay for the joy of Easter. That this joy in resurrection, this springing forth of life and forgiveness and salvation was bought through a trial of pain and endurance that seemed to resonate reflectively in my young soul. There was an emotional, physical, and spiritual price paid on our behalf. That always resonated in me. That Christ did not pay cheaply for me.
This sense of hardship and darkness and emotional trial was heightened for me when my Dad passed away in Good Friday seven years ago. He died too suddenly and too soon. I don’t think of the date of his death, for me he died on the day, Good, Friday. Every year about ten days leading up to Good Friday I have a heaviness of spirit. A sense of loss, a sense of shortness of life and an uneasiness and discomfort in my own skin. Grief can take you that way. For me, I see Good Friday in the same light as I did as a child but with more depth and clarity. As I read scripture, my favourite passages are the ones where the women go to the tomb. How they grieve, their sense of loss resonates with me because I too have lost.
But I don’t get sunk in that grief. There are pockets of light and hope and always have been. A very wise man who I prayed with tonight prayed about Good Friday saying “Friday is here but Sunday is coming”.
And it’s the hope. The hope and God’s promise that calms my loss. And it’s the gifts from God. Each year during this difficult time he shows me something new about himself. On Palm Sunday I was standing in church grieving and worshipping and looking around I saw a man who has become a spiritual father to me. God has given me, given us the gift of community. He has given us the Church, the bride of Christ. He has given us each other. He has given me two spiritual fathers who I can look up to and ask questions of and who love me.
It’s these light rays of hope in the midst of the difficult that remind me of God’s love for us. Not just in our salvation, but in our provision. Because of what he’s done Friday is here, but with certainty we know Sunday is coming.