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 . . .
Show on our face . . .
. . . are we amazed
