Are you tempted to
leap from Palm Sunday directly to Easter, from triumphal entry
to resurrection glory? Holy Week allows no such luxury. What
began in proclamation turns quickly to trial, denial, and death.
And now, finally, Good Friday.
“Have a good day,” we say blithely one to another,
even to strangers at the grocery store. Is it possible to call
this Friday good? This is surely the greatest paradox of all
time. Jesus is crucified. Hope is gone. The light of the world
has been all but snuffed out. Wrapped in linen and soaked in
burial oils, the future has been put to death and left to decay
in Joseph’s sepulcher.
For fifteen years I have met with grief support groups, made
up mostly of widows. I have seen grievers move from darkest
depression to audacious hope. I have witnessed the pain of separation
give way to irrepressible purpose. Those closest to death have
tales to tell. They demonstrate that love wins. Life goes on.
Grace prevails.
Learning these lessons from grief’s survivors, I have
come to think of the church’s mission as lighting candles
in the tomb. Christians are most Christlike in our willingness
to face the dark and bear vibrant testament to our conviction
that Friday doesn’t last forever, that Sunday is coming.
Especially on this day, we stand resolved. We worship and
serve a God who is in the regular business of speaking through
burning bushes unscathed, bringing life to valleys of dry bones,
and best of all, breathing again even in sepulchers thought
abandoned. Even amid death, this Friday can be called good because
God is good.
—Rev. Karl Travis, pastor, First Presbyterian Church,
Fort Worth, Texas |
