The morning’s readings of the suffering of Christ caused me to land this evening on this thought. Some years, Good Friday has seemed heavy because of the awareness of this: we did this to him. I did this to him. This year the weight of Good Friday falls here: he did this for us. The suffering servant dead in a tomb after a dehumanizing, painful, brutal murder. It was not happenstance.
It was love. And as a stand alone event, it is hard to look at. But look we must, and Good Friday is important because we are beckoned to stop and look and see Jesus beaten, mocked, crucified, buried. Destroyed. On Good Friday, that is where the story ends. And it was love.