I’ve been a Christian a long time. I made the decision to accept God’s gift of salvation when I was five years old. I was raised in a Christian home with Christian parents who worked at a Christian school and were very involved in our local church and made our faith a huge priority in our home. So I know the lingo. I know the words. I know how to “talk the talk.”
But I didn’t really understand: what’s so “good” about Good Friday?
I’ve spent many years living in pride: I was a “good” sinner. I’ve never done anything truly horrible in my life. I’ve never murdered anyone. I’ve never stolen anything – intentionally. I got good grades in school, I studied hard and didn’t cheat, I respected my teachers. I’ve never smoked, done drugs, or gotten drunk. For most of my life, I lived with the lie that it was easy to save me. I was already a pretty good person. God didn’t really have to sacrifice much to save someone like me.
So I didn’t really understand: what’s so “good” about Good Friday?
But in recent years, God has shown me the devastating effects of that lie. How living with that sort of pride has made me reluctant to share my story because it’s not “dramatic” enough. How I’ve hidden my light and my testimony under a bush because no one would be interested in it. And I wonder…how many people will go to hell because of me? Because I was too proud…too nervous…to afraid to share my story.
And I still didn’t understand: what was so “good” about Good Friday?
Recently, God has also been slowly revealing to me the depths of my sin. How my “little” sins have still completely separated me from God. How all that “goodness” I believed was inside of me was still distasteful and displeasing to Him. How I truly – TRULY – had nothing to bring to the table to negotiate my salvation. How – despite living on the straight and narrow – my sin still was enough to cause Jesus to endure torture, ridicule, and shame to the point of death.
But I still didn’t understand: what’s so “good” about Good Friday?
About 10 years ago, I had the privilege of praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. As I sat under an olive tree in the middle of the garden, I wondered if this might have been the exact spot where my Savior wept as He prayed over me…someone who wouldn’t even exist for another 2,000 years. What could I say at that moment? What pitiful prayer could I offer? What words could express the gratitude, the awe, the wonder of it all? What sacrifice could I offer in return for that night of agony and sorrow, those hours of loneliness when even Jesus’ closest friends abandoned Him? I found I couldn’t pray. I sat under that olive tree, and like my Savior, I wept. I wept over my pride…my sin…my unworthiness. I wept over His great love, His endless compassion…and His ultimate sacrifice, made for me.
And I began to see: what IS “good” about Good Friday.
I can hardly bear to watch the movie “The Passion of the Christ.” Though I don’t like graphic depictions of physical violence, that’s not what bothers me most. Fact is, it hits too close to home. You see, I did that. I was the soldier beating His back to a bloody pulp. I was the disciple who cursed His name and abandoned Him in His darkest moment. I was the one in the crowd who shouted for his death. And I was the soldier who put the nails in his hands and lowered that cross into the ground. I stood and mocked Him. You may not have seen me, but it was my sin that held him there. My sin that motivated Him to endure all that suffering. My sin that caused Him to remove all His heavenly glory and live a life of humiliation to the point of death. Those “little” sins…all that “goodness” I had been so proud of all my life. Yes, that was what He came to save.
And I now can see: what is truly “good” about Good Friday.
Because it was on that day that my debt was paid. My penalty was given. My sin was accounted for. My punishment was delivered.
And Someone else took it all for me.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P87j6dHDWZ8&feature=related[/youtube]
Beautiful.