From The Desk of David

How fitting is it that it’s raining this Good Friday? Almost as if nature itself resounds the sadness and grief that occurred on a Roman Cross that day all those years ago. I always find myself reflecting on the scene of Jesus’ Crucifixion on Good Friday. Perhaps it’s because I was raised in the church or maybe it’s because I know that Friday is needed for Sunday’s celebration. But every year, I always seem to find myself in awe that the early church fathers chose to name this day, “good.” “Good” is the last thing I’m sure those who were there would ever have dared to call it by a name so whimsical and lighthearted. Would Mary, the mother of Jesus, ever let the word “good” cross her lips as she watched her son beaten, abused, mocked, and strung up on a Roman cross? Would the friends of Jesus dare call it “good” when the spear was driven into Jesus’ side? Good Friday wasn’t good. So why do we use this lighthearted word to set this Friday apart from all others? 

Sure, from the vantage point of 2023, this Friday is good. This Friday is the day death was destroyed and we were given life. Today was the start of the return to the Garden of Eden. But from the perspective of that dark day, Friday was far from good. Watching your child be murdered by the government you pay taxes to would not have felt “good.” Watching your friend suffer would not have felt “good.” However, we can’t forget that it still would not have felt good to those there when they woke on Sunday morning. The sting of death would have still been present.

But you see, I have a theory. The early church fathers didn’t name this day based on what happened. They called “Good Friday” good because of the vantage point of Sunday—and it’s because of Sunday that we can call it good. But I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been guilty of mislabeling days. I wonder how many painful and challenging days I’ve labeled wrong because I labeled them too soon. I wonder if I’ve thrown in the towel before I witnessed the stone of redemption move. I’d imagine that He would echo the words of the garden— “It is good.” He makes all things good. So even if it still seems dark. If the taste of defeat is still fresh on your lips, remember, Sunday is on the way. Because like the cross, He finishes everything He starts. He’s standing back with a smile that has overcome the world and an “it is good,” that is louder than a thousand rolls of thunder and brighter than all our dark Fridays. Because friends, it is Good Friday, indeed.