Good Friday 2014

Why is it called Good Friday?

I have heard many answers.

None satisfy.

Jesus, the Word made flesh, God incarnate,

Died on a Friday, 
The day after he shared the Passover meal  
With those closest to him.

Fully human.

So human that he suffered just as we would

Nailed to a cross 
After a brutal flogging.

We recoil in horror

At his death

And think it took so long.

Six hours.

Most crucified took days to die.

Was Pilate's flogging a blessing

That gave a swifter death?

Fully God,

Who had never known death.

All creation gone before had drunk

Of that bitter cup,

But God had not.

God died on that first Good Friday,

As much of God

As could exist in human form.

A maimed, lifeless body was laid in

The cold stone tomb.

Love's breath stilled.

 Heaven wept.

Creation waited. 

The Saturday before Easter

On this day,
The apostles are absent

From the gospels,
This missing day.
Jesus is dead
His disciples believe.
Their world is ashes.
Their grief is immense.
They fear for their lives.
They hide in the upper room.
Only the women dare to go out.
Jerusalem is strangely quiescent.

Pilate places a guard by the tomb.

This day Christ's body lies undisturbed.
Tomorrow the disciples' world

Will come alive
But not today.
We must remember

That missing day
When sorrow fills us,
When we tremble in fear,
When we hide from the world.
Those that knew our Savior best
Did not escape their human frailty,
Neither can we.
We know that with the morrow
Came relief and jubilation.
We have the risen Christ
Not the missing day.

The Missing Day

On this day,
The apostles are absent

From the gospels.
This missing day.
Jesus is dead
His disciples believe.
Their world is ashes.
Their grief is immense.
They fear for their lives.
They hide in the upper room.
Only the women dare to go out.
Jerusalem is strangely quiescent.

Pilate places a guard by the tomb.

This day Christ's body lies undisturbed.
Tomorrow the disciples' world

Will come alive
But not today.
We must remember

That missing day
When sorrow fills us,
When we tremble in fear,
When we hide from the world.
Those that knew our Savior best
Did not escape their human frailty,
Neither can we.
We know that with the morrow
Came relief and jubilation.
We have the risen Christ
Not the missing day.

The Missing Day: Saturday Before Easter

Photo by hoyasmeg

Jesus is dead
His disciples believe.
On this day,
The apostles are absent

From the gospels
This missing day.
Their world is ashes.
Their grief is immense.
They fear for their lives.
They hide in the upper room.
Only the women dare to go out.
Jerusalem is strangely quiescent.

Pilate places a guard by the tomb.

This day Christ's body lies undisturbed.
Tomorrow the disciples' world

Will come alive
But not today.
We must remember

That missing day
When sorrow fills us,
When we tremble in fear,
When we hide from the world.
Those that knew our Savior best
Did not escape their human frailty,
Neither can we.
We know that with the morrow
Came relief and jubilation.
We have the risen Christ
Not the missing day.

Not the Missing Day

Jesus is dead.
That is what his disciples believe.
On this day,
The apostles are absent from the gospels
This missing day.
Their world is ashes.
Their grief is immense.
They fear for their lives.
They hide in the upper room.
Only the women dare to go out.
Jerusalem is strangely quiescent.

Pilate places a guard by the tomb.

This day the body lies undisturbed.
Tomorrow the disciples' world will come alive
But not today.
We must remember that missing day
When sorrow fills us,
When we are afraid,
When we hide from the world.
Those that knew our Savior best
Did not escape their human frailty,
Neither can we.
We know that with the morrow
Came relief and jubilation.
We have the risen Christ
Not the missing day.

Photo by hoyasmeg