Good Friday

April 11, 2020

It’s Good Friday. Years ago, Cassadaga Valley churches would hold a three-hour Good Friday service at one of the churches, the location of which changed each year. The service was based on the Seven Last Words of Jesus, spoken on the cross. We pastors divided up the Seven Words, each one giving a meditation on our passage. The service included many of the great hymns of the Cross—“When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” “O Sacred Head Now Wounded,” “Beneath the Cross of Jesus,” “Alas, and Did My Savior Bleed,” “Were You There,” and others. Each pastor’s slot was about 25 minutes. If time was left at the end of any section, we sat in silence and prayer, reflecting on Christ’s sacrifice for us. Three hours to listen, pray, and reflect was for me, the most solemn and moving service of the year.

This afternoon, I looked for the service we used, to no avail. But I found a few online. Not many churches do this anymore, a sign of the times, I suppose. But one resource had some excellent reflections, one of which I share tonight.

THE FOURTH WORD                                       Mark 15:33-34

     And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over

     the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour

     Jesus cried with a loud voice, "Elo-i, elo-i, lama

     sabach-thani?" which means, "My God, my God, why hast thou

     forsaken me?" 

* Meditation on the Fourth Word

Of all the agony of that tortuous day

the lacerations of the scourging

the chafing of the thorns around his head

the convulsions of his tormented, dehydrated body 

as it hung in the heat all the day

Nothing reaches the depth of this anguished cry of desolation

"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Jesus, who found his purpose and strength in the presence of God 

who was sustained by the immediacy of his relationship with God 

and who endured all by the tangible power of God always at work within him ,

always a centre of vitality and peace,

found himself totally alone on the cross.

Jesus, whose very being was God, 

found himself utterly, 

     absolutely, 

     despairingly. 

cut off from all that gives life and breath 

cut off from all that gives purpose and hope 

cut off from the source of his being 

cut off, even from himself 

plumbing the depths of the human condition 

to walk in the place of the utter absence of God,

in the place of sinners

in the place of those who reject God.

"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

In these words is the central mystery of the crucifixion 

which cannot be fully comprehended,

that there is no despair so deep

or evil so overwhelming

or place so far removed from joy, light, and love 

from the very heart of God

that God has not been before us, 

and where God cannot meet us 

and bring us home.

It’s this last paragraph that captures my heart. Christ was forsaken so we would never have to be. There is no depth to which we can plunge where he has not gone deeper, no sin so heinous that his blood cannot cleanse. 

This afternoon, my son read part of the passion story from The Book of God by Walter Wangerin. It’s an imaginative retelling of the Gospel narratives. As Wangerin tells of the scourging, he describes it from Jesus’ perspective, stripped, tied to the whipping post. He says Jesus heard this whistling just before he felt the sting of nettles and the tearing of his flesh. Over and over, he hears the whistling. He hears someone crying out in sympathy. “The whistle.” He realized who was crying out. It was himself.” Finally he collapses with the taste of blood in his mouth and led off to be crucified. My short digest of Wangerin’s words cannot do it justice, but as I listened, my eyes began to fill with tears. I shall never again think of a whistle without remembering this scene.

It’s easy to say, “Christ died for us.” It’s much harder, and more important, to recognize what it cost God to procure our salvation. When we say, “just trust in Jesus,” without pressing for a recognition of the sin that sent him to such a grisly death, for confession and repentance, is to minimize and trivialize his sacrifice for us. I am so deeply thankful tonight for those long-ago services that slowed time down so we could contemplate more fully God’s deep love for us, and for Wangerin’s words today that stung my soul, releasing the tears of gratitude.