So much of my writing and poetry is about perspective. You will see consistent themes using the language of story—that though we are on dark pages in the middle of our stories, the Author is very good, and the ending of the story is incredible. But it’s hard to have this perspective on dark pages of pain, because darkness seems to drive away light, and pain has a way of freezing time.
I think Good Friday is a great tool and practice of pausing in the middle of a familiar story—on the darkest day in history. It forces us to feel the terrible pain and injustice of the cross and prepares us for the joy of the resurrection. Good Friday feels the tension of terrible pain while holding on to promised hope. Even though this day remembers the terrible agony and death of our Savior, we declare it “good.”
Because it is not the end of the story.
Many of us come to Easter this year in the middle of dark, dark pages—well acquainted with the effects of sin and death in this broken world. We have buried children. We have received the fatal diagnosis. We have felt the pain of broken relationships. We have suffered in long-lasting mental illness.
And yet. We hold on to hope (Hebrews 10:23.)
“He is the king Who set aside his glory He is the author who entered the story.” -Incarnate
We still weep for the pain of this broken world - like Jesus did. We are encouraged to lament! In fact, each of our tears is caught in a bottle (Psalm 56:8.) But we do not grieve as those who do not have hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18.)
Good Friday reminds us that even here, there is a hope and promise that changes everything. Even our suffering. It reminds us that Jesus stepped into the middle of the story to redeem it.
If death on the cross isn’t the end of His story—then this dark page isn’t the end of yours.
Hold on. Sunday is coming.
Hold on. Heaven is coming.
Make sure to listen to Sarah’s Good Friday song, “Behold the Man, Pt. 2” on Spotify.