There was nothing “good” about it. Nothing to make me say “yes, I want to do this again.”
Until it was over and we walked into the late evening sunshine, silent, blinking away the dark of the tomb, walking toward what we knew would come. Toward the promise of Sunday.
That Good Friday when we sat in the depths of the towering Catholic church in preparation, I wept. The hush, the echo of His words….
“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!”
I had walked through decades of Good Friday services, but none tore at my heart and soul like this. Not one had made me feel the pain of His pain as the sins of generations ripped through His body.
There is nothing good about this, I thought.
Until I stepped out into His world in silence and turned toward Sunday. To the Resurrection that carried the promise of my own resurrection from this world to one of the many rooms He has prepared for me in His world.
I turned my face to the setting sun, and it was good.
Joining other bloggers on this Good Friday at Five Minute Friday to share thoughts on the word GOOD.