I have always found Good Friday to be a difficult day to accept. Every year, I feel sad, and I never feel the “good” in it. For me, this day is the dark cloud that shadows the coming wonder of Easter.
A friend told me once that she had read that Jesus loves us so much that if he had needed to, he would have taken the hammer and nailed himself to the cross to be our salvation. I know my friend wanted me to feel better about Jesus’s sacrifice. I didn’t. I just added guilt to my sadness.
Yes, I know the implications of the sacrificial lamb and that without the crucifixion, we don’t have the celebration of the resurrection. To be brutally honest, though, I think it would have been great to have a whole lifetime of teachings from Jesus Christ. Let him create quite a stir with decades of his upside-down teachings. Let him die at a ripe old age. Then, let us celebrate the resurrection, perhaps amazing in part because it happened to a wizened, elderly person. I don’t understand why his life had to end so soon and suffer such violence.
I’m sorry, God. I’m sorry, Jesus. I’m sorry you had to do this. I’m sorry people can be so cruel and blind and needy. I’m sorry for my part in this. I am grateful, and I am sorry.