I had the privilege of participating in the Good Friday service at church this evening. I have attended a few, including a couple as a member of the choir, but this one was different. Maybe it is because I've been changing in my faith lately. Maybe it is because I took part in the service in a more involved way. Maybe it's because HE has been more there to me in the past few months. Whatever the reason, as I stood in line to place my nail in the cross, participating symbolically in HIS death, my mind was a jumble of so many things. All the burdens I have carried- HE takes them all. All the ways I have failed, betrayed, HIM. HE forgives me. HE forgives me. HE keeps giving me so much, and I don't deserve it. MY sin put HIM on that cross. MY sin drove those nails into HIS innocent flesh. MY sin sentenced HIM to a horrendous, tortuous death as a criminal.
But HIS love brought HIM back. HIS love covers me and my sin and my inadequacies and my failures. HIS love keeps on lifting me up over and over. How can we comprehend that kind of love?
As the service ended, it was quiet and dark in the sanctuary. It felt heavy and somber, but right. Feeling the sorrow of that day so many years ago is hard, but necessary to drive home the fact that before the joy and celebration of Easter, there was the despair and hopelessness of Good Friday.