Good Friday

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I try to avoid the Good Friday service like the plague.  I suspect it is a measure of my worthlessness as a sinner.  I still don’t understand why the most perfect individual ever – would give His life for someone like me.  To me, it is one of the great mysteries of time and space.

I’m not worthy.

I don’t like the service, nor the reading of the Passion.  It bothers me.  I can’t handle it.

Traditionally, at our church, on Thursday night, the bring up the large wooden cross will be placed near the altar.  During the reading of the passion, someone, usually our choir director, will hammer the nails into it.  Once we leave the service, my mother always starts talking about the hammering of those nails.

I don’t want to hear about it.  I don’t want to talk about it.  It gets to me.  I suspect it does, because I’m such a selfish, self-centered person.  Then again, I don’t like to see my cat suffer, let alone the thought of what was done to Christ, while on that Cross.

I’m neither deep enough nor intellectual enough to want to contemplate what happened that day.  It had to have been the worst day the universe has ever known.  I can’t imagine the love of our Heavenly Father as He watched, suffering, as His only Son solely and miserably died.

What did I do to deserve such Salvation?

I am a skeptic.  I don’t believe anything nor in much of anything unless I can see black and white, scientific proof.  The reason I know that the Salvation that comes from Christ dying on that Cross is real is because of my skepticism.  Only a miracle could touch my nasty little soul.  Only the Hand of God, who loved the world so much that He gave His Son, that who would believe in Him would have everlasting life could sway me.

That’s a miracle.

My mother always discusses that hammering sound.  I don’t think about that, I always think of Ben Hur and the cleansing rain as Christ’s Blood washed away our sins.  When I do, I completely break down in tears.

Then, I think about the Blessed Holy Mother.  How she must have felt, how tortured, and heart-broken, shattered she was.

This was for me – and for you.

 ‘For God so loved the world
that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him
may not perish but may have eternal life.

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