Missing It And Good Friday

Last Easter I came across an angry blog about Good Friday. The blogger was a Christian, known for some of her work about her faith--but then she was just a straight up hater when it came to the way some churches choose to recognize Good Friday and worship on that day. Two thoughts on that: I really really can’t stand anger on the internet. Righteous indignation: I’m with you One. Thousand. Percent. Let’s get upset about injustice, about violence, and about human rights. Let’s be moved to action. But--for those bloggers who just can’t get enough of their cool, edgy, angry, new perspective on things that we all generally feel okay about--yuck. Chill out on the self-righteous haterade. It makes me feel like a giant Kool Aid Man pitcher of red-drink is busting through my wall, but instead of smiling and saying “OH, Yea,” he’s yelling “Suck on that. Boom! I destroyed your home.”

I just can’t stand anger online. Hate, hate, hate it. Dang it...now who’s an angry blogger?
--End Soap Box Rant--

But my second thought was, “I mean I guess it is noteworthy that sometimes people feel pressure to be mournful on Good Friday even though they may not feel mournful.”

And then this morning I took a few minutes to read and think about Christ being dragged to an unfair trial (talk about injustice, violence, and human rights) and then murdered after being tortured and humiliated in front of crowds of people.

I felt deeply, but not mournfully per-say.

I felt deeply, to my core, I’ll-never-forget, grateful. Grateful like when you helplessly watch as someone else fixes a problem that’s all your fault. Grateful with humility, with smallness because He’s everything, and I’m nothing. The essence of Jesus is utter holiness and the essence of my soul is vile wickedness. What could I have ever done to save myself? Nothing, nothing. He didn’t have to, in a way He didn’t want to. He was burdened and anxious and cast all His worry on the Lord and walked forward even though He knew what came next, because it was our only hope.

I also had this sinking feeling. Those priests, those religious leaders--I’m not so different from them. What they lived for was technically living out God’s law, God’s word and instruction for the Jews. They should have been the first ones to catch on, to identify what was really going on with this Jesus fellow. They knew the scriptures, the prophecies, the promises of God like the back of their hand.

What may have started out of faithful devotion to God, became warped and twisted into a love of something they could dictate, control, gain status and make a name for themselves with. God’s word became something they loved only for selfish reasons. They loved “their thing,” their dreams, their expectations and they were so hardened, their faith became staunch-- not tender or soft.  

And they missed it.

That selfish love... that’s in me too. When I’m reeling in a tornado of “I have to be productive today!” When I’m so focused on the system I have set into place for our kitchen operations that I bite my husband’s head off for putting a dirty spoon on my drying mat while he is cooking me a big yummy breakfast (yea, no we don’t have a food oriented business or anything, this is just how I do #winning as a Monica Geller type: I have a "best practices" system in place for our home). Or when I’m so eager to close out bedtime, that I rush through our bible story and prayer time.

And I’m missing it.

The housework tasks, the parenting tasks, the kitchen operations--their all just supposed to be tools which helps me LIVE. These tools are meant to better equip me for a Gospel thriving life, or else I’m missing it.

A little pharisee version of Katy lives in me, and so I’m grateful this Good Friday because Jesus saw that we would miss it and yet He patiently, gracious, boldly calls us beloved.