Good Friday

When I was younger I used to wonder why today was called Good Friday.  When you consider how the day ended for Jesus, there didn't seem to be much about it that could be called good.

Obviously I had a very (VERY) limited understanding of God's plan to redeem a people for Himself.  I am ashamed to admit (and so I won't) just how long it was before the picture began to come into focus.

This evening my husband and I attended the Good Friday service at our church.  There were actually two services; we chose to go to the first service at 6:00 p.m.  The church was packed.  My husband estimated that there were close to 1000 people in the sanctuary.

Earlier in the day I was waffling as to whether or not I would go to church.  I was super tired and still dealing with some discomfort from my gall bladder attack yesterday.  The weather was cold and rainy -- all I really wanted to do was turn on my electric blanket and crawl into bed.  I almost decided to tell my husband that I was going to stay at home, but then I remembered something that convicted me that I needed to make the effort to go to the service.

At least ten years ago, our former pastor, Kent Hughes, spoke about preparing for Easter.  Pastor Hughes encouraged the congregation to commit to all that Easter had to offer.  He wanted us to walk with the disciples as they experienced the high of Palm Sunday, the fellowship and final teachings of Jesus at the Last Supper, the depths of grief and despair at the crucifixion and the glorious culmination of God's plan for salvation in the celebration of Christ's resurrection.

Pastor Hughes felt believers could not fully appreciate the wonder and joy of Easter morning if they had not also contemplated the humiliation and unimaginable suffering that Jesus willing endured on the cross for our sake.