Poem for Good Friday

A Poem for Good Friday -

Good Friday. The words etched in small black typeface on my calendar … Friday, April 2, 2010.

Good Friday. What makes Good Friday so good?

The single day of the year to have the distinction of being good. How can it be good? The commemoration of a man who claimed to be the Son of God, executed … capital punishment.

A man, brutally beaten, flesh nailed to wood, lifted up for a crowd to see. Good Friday? How can that be good? A people divided, occupied territory, a dissenter to rock the status quo.

What’s so good about Good Friday?

His followers would claim that He was God in the flesh, yet a humble servant to all, even stooping to wash their feet the night before His death. They claim that His death was the ultimate act of love … one who is taking upon himself the full wrath of God against all unrighteousness in our place. One who suffers under infinite justice as if he was the one looking at porn on a laptop … as if he was the one who was selling crack on a dark street corner … as if he was the one who constantly lied to maintain an image … as if he was the one who stole supplies from his boss when no one was looking … as if He was the one who lived a life of disregard for God. They claimed He became all of that and more to satisfy a debt we could never pay.

Perhaps He is what is good about Good Friday.