they didn't know

 

 

 

The holiest of days today.  

Good Friday.

It's hard to breathe.  

Words do not come easily. 

 

It was the third hour when they nailed him to the cross. 

From the sixth to the ninth hour 

an inexplicable darkness covered the land.

Jesus cried out with a loud voice,

 

"My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"

What do you do with an awful loss . . . 

ripping apart . . .

feeling forsaken . . .

Is there not amazement, in experiencing great loss,

that life around you is going on . . .

that everyone is not stopped in their tracks?

Does it not show on the face, 

in the eyes . . .

the rapid heartbeat, 

the sweaty palms;

emotions swirl and eddy.

On that Friday the sun stopped shining.

God turned His back.

Jesus forsaken.

Hung there on the cross.

It was evident in their faces; 

his loved ones,

hovering nearby, bent low with grief.  

Weeping.

Mary, his mother.  Her sister.  

John, his best friend and others.

Sorrow beyond words.  Confusion and hurt.  

Death and darkness.

Life had been forever altered.

 

They didn't know that was the plan.

From the beginning.

 

But today, we know.  

It was always the plan.

Restoration, redemption, 

reconciliation, 

to bring back, to repair.

 

Around the ninth hour, 

Jesus bowed his head and gave us his spirit. 

 

Saying, "It is finished."

The words hung there too.

For the religious leaders,

the Roman guard,

the enemy of this world,

Jesus' loved ones and us today.

It is finished.

The most astonishing gift the world has ever seen.

 

That he would die in our place.

Life is forever altered.

Does it not stop us in our tracks . . .
Show on our face . . .

. . . are we amazed

 

on a friday

words
falling like
confetti

twirling
like snow
blinding
with the white
barrage

of paper
raining down

but the one
caught on the sleeve
revealing
a finer print

words up close
shockingly
not so pretty

strife and rancor
yelling loud
letters on bits
of paper
these words

owning our
futile attempts
to fix
and paint
pretty
the landscape
of our lives

and instead
the living broken
everywhere
we look

words flying
falling
misleading
and destroying

the discourse
ugly and
a smattering
of expletives
too often

haunting us

these
veiled attempts
at happy

and
our story

the one
we want
to be so
beautiful

just isn't

but in the midst
of ordinary
everyday living
on a friday

right now

other words

exploding
ordinary
into
smithereens

my God
my God
why have you
forsaken Me

like a bomb
blast
careening
into our lives

changing everything

jaw-dropping

staggering even

the events

on a friday

because

the confetti
our parade
these best
efforts
just
not enough

but what is

words exploding

across time
into
the
cosmos

it is finished

ripping into darkness
ripping into lives

changing everything
no greater love

to be continued

on a sunday

Are we amazed?

The holiest of days.  Good Friday.  
It's hard to breathe.  Words do not come easy.
It was the third hour when they nailed Jesus to the cross.

From the sixth to the ninth hour an inexplicable darkness covered the land.
Jesus then cried out in a loud voice, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

What to do with awful loss . . . ripping apart . . . feeling forsaken?
Is there not amazement, in experiencing great loss; life going on?
That everyone is not stopped in their tracks?
Gazing and somehow knowing life is forever altered.
Does it not show on the face, in the eyes?
The rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms; emotions swirl and eddy.

On that Friday the sun stopped shining.
God turned His back.
Jesus was forsaken.
Hung there on the cross.

It was evident in their faces; 
his loved ones, hovering nearby, 
bent low with grief.
Weeping.
Mary, his mother.  Her sister.  John, his best friend.  And others.
Sorrow beyond words.  Confusion and hurt.  Death and darkness. 
Life had been forever altered.

They didn't know that was the plan.  From the beginning.

But, today, we know.  It was always the plan.
Restoration, redemption, reconciliation, to bring back, repair.

Around the ninth hour Jesus bowed His head and gave up His spirit.
Saying, "It is finished."

The words hung there too.

For the religious leaders, 
the Roman guard, 
the enemy of this world, 
Jesus' loved ones and us today.

It is finished.

The most astonishing gift the world has ever seen.  
That He would die in our place. 

Life is forever altered.

Does it not stop us in our tracks?  Show on our face?  

Are we amazed?

Good Friday

The holiest of days.  Good Friday.  It's hard to breathe.  Words do not come easy.  It was the third hour when they nailed Jesus to the cross.

From the sixth to the ninth hour an inexplicable darkness covered the land.  Jesus then cried out in a loud voice, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

What to do with awful loss . . . ripping apart . . . feeling forsaken?
Is there not amazement, in experiencing great loss; life going on?  That everyone is not stopped in their tracks?  Gazing and somehow knowing life is forever altered.  Does it not show on the face, in the eyes?  The rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms; emotions swirl and eddy.

On that Friday the sun stopped shining.  God turned His back.  Jesus was forsaken.  He hung there on the cross.

It was evident in their faces; his loved ones, hovering nearby, bent low with grief.  Weeping. Mary, his mother. Her sister.  John, his best friend, and others.  Sorrow beyond words.  Confusion and hurt.  Death and darkness.  Life had been forever altered.

They didn't know that was the plan.  From the beginning.

But today, we know.  It was always the plan.

Restoration, redemption, reconciliation, to bring back, repair.

Around the ninth hour Jesus bowed his head and gave up his spirit saying, "It is finished".

The words hung there too.  For the religious leaders, the Roman guard, the enemy of this world, Jesus' loved ones and us today.

It is finished.  The most astonishing gift the world has ever seen.  That He would die in our place.  Life is forever altered.

Does it not stop us in our tracks?  Show on our face?  Are we amazed?