It’s Friday night as I’m starting this post, and when I’m done with it, this will be Saturday morning. Today I spent time reading in the Gospel of Matthew, where the eye-witness disciple describes the events leading up through Jesus’ crucifixion. Very intense writing.
(betrayed in a garden)
Every Good Friday I feel a deeper-than-usual connection to the events of that day. I can remember hour by hour what I was doing and feeling when Riley was born last year, the day after Easter. I try to imagine what Jesus was doing and feeling hour by hour leading up to His death.
(whipped within an inch of His life)
It makes me feel pretty sick inside. The worst part is that He did what He did for ME. Because of ME and my sin. And it’s the best part because I’m forgiven for it all.
(crucified naked, bleeding, totally disfigured, in front of everyone)
And every time I start thinking this way, I’m filled with a desire to lay at His feet, hold on to His ankles, and weep, like the prostitute who washed His feet and dried them with her hair. I don’t deserve what He did. I HAVE to thank Him for it!
Every Easter (and every time I meditate on these things) the eagerness grows – to see Him – to MEET Him in PERSON! And because He rose from the dead and paved the way to heaven as well, I’ll meet Him some day, for real. He’ll actually take time for ME.
Come soon, Lord Jesus. We long to see You.
“Then the angel spoke to the women. ‘Don’t be afraid!’ he said. ‘I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead, just as he said would happen.'” (Matthew 28:5,6)