What can one say? How do we even begin to grasp the import of this day for us? It can compare to no other day in the life of the Christian. I spoke tonight at our Good Friday service and used Mark 15:33-47 as the text. I went through the text but ended the talk with what I’m including below. This is such an intimate day, a life-changing day, I had to describe it as if I were there. I know that all of us cry out to see the Crucified Christ in life-changing ways. We know, though, that only the Holy Spirit can reveal Him to us. May it be so this night.
As I prayed about the message tonight, I thought about what it would be like to actually be there. At Calvary. So I did just that. I found myself at the foot of the cross. And this is what I saw, and this is what I heard. Maybe this is what He wants for all of us.
I am standing at the foot of the Cross on the hill of Calvary. I can only cry out to God, let this be done quickly, please… I am terrified of this darkness and of the quaking of the earth beneath me. It has lasted so long – but I am afraid to leave. I cannot leave. And then his voice. I heard these words that I didn’t even really understand – Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachtani. I know it though – from the words of the Psalm. What does it mean? I cannot grasp it all, but I hear it as the cry of my own heart – “Why oh why have you forsaken me?” I have been left in my sin, and my shame, and even in my suffering. I have been spat on, hit, cursed, and oh the pain… Your Word, Lord comes to mind again – you too were despised and rejected by others; you too suffered. Could all this around me be the fulfillment of your word? Even though you were struck down by God – was that for me? Did you take on my pain, my sin? Can it be that by your wounds, I am healed?
“oh to see my name… written in the wounds…”
– O that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains might quake at your presence – as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil – to make your name known to your adversaries, and that the nations might tremble at your presence.
Later I find out – that in that time of darkness, that while the earth shook and the hot winds blew, the veil had been torn. From top to bottom it has been ripped! What does that mean? – Only the holy ones can enter it – surely not I or even my Lord. – But – oh yes! It is torn! The holy of holies is now open – wide open to receive me! To receive the world! If the world would only accept it.
I look around me and see the crowds… those who mocked but there were some who wept. I see a group of women standing apart from the crowds. They are the ones who weep. But where are the others? Those who followed him, those who were his friends.
I cannot leave, but I cannot watch – to see that sour wine pressed to his lips. And then… He died. He breathed his last breath – oh how I wish it were my last breath. It is finished.
They come for his body – but even then, I don’t want to leave. I am tethered to this place- this place of the Cross – for that is what it has become. I see now what I know I could never see on my own. I see that heaven is not only Christ centered, it is Cross centered. I see that my only hope in life comes in being tethered to this Cross. How could it be? That this horrific death could set me free? “oh to see my name written in the wounds… For in your suffering, I am indeed free.
It’s growing brighter—on the darkest of days – the sun returns, the clouds lighten, the wind dies down and the earth is quiet. I do not know what lies ahead, but in this place – I stand. I feel my heart settling down. – My grief is so great, but there is yet a peace. You, O Lord, bore wrath meant for me, you took the blame, you became sin for us, sin for me. And can it be that I stand forgiven? Oh – the heavens cry out that even with all else lost, there is yet, even on this dark good Friday, the enduring, even eternal power of the Cross.