A Good Friday

It's been a heavy week. So heavy that I feel at times, Jesus is allowing situations in order that I may in some very, very small way feel His pain.

It's a good week for things to go wrong. When the focus in on Jesus' supreme sacrifice, nothing else compares. No matter what happens, how hopeless, how frustrating, how painful something is, I find myself thinking about Jesus' Passion. Suddenly, my world doesn't seem so important.

Someone said to me last night, "Man, I just wish I could catch a break." My immediate thought was that Jesus probably thought that too. He was in the garden sweating blood. He knew what He was about to endure. He asked God to take this cup from Him. He accepted it anyway.

This week, no matter how hard I try, I can't be hopeless. It's always darkest before the dawn. Look at Good Friday. In discussions with Mackenzie this week, she asked me why they call it Good Friday when something so bad happened. I explained to her that what happened that day wasn't good in the way we think about it. It was good because of what resulted from it.

Easter is the ultimate season for hope. It is the springtime of the soul. It is God making all things new. From that dark day at Calvary rose the glorious Son on Easter morning.

Today was a good, reflective, sacrificial day. The kids, although small, rose valiantly to a day with no TV, music, or snacks. They relished the time we spent talking about the Easter story by going to the Stations and Veneration of the Cross, and doing our Resurrection Eggs.

They are excited that Easter will be here soon. I am too. Without faith, the events of today would be too much to bear. But I know that Jesus is not dead. I believe that He rose from the dead. I love that He did it for me.