Good Friday


Normally, on Good Friday, I think about the suffering He had to endure.

His body, beaten with leather and jagged metal or broken glass. His back, cracked open. Thorns pressed into His tender brow. Nails through His hands and His feet. Blood spilling.

What they did to Him was horrific. The kind of horrific that makes a girl sick because how could anyone do this to someone?

Normally, on Good Friday, I think about how it wasn’t just “them”. It was me too.

My sin nailed him to that cross.

Every wrong action. Every careless word. Every tainted thought. How could I do this to someone? My heart is broken.

Today is Good Friday and I’m thinking about all of those things.

But I’m also thinking about what it means to have a Savior.

A Savior so loving that He couldn’t bear to be apart from us so He made a way. He could have walked away but He chose the cross and now His love has washed me clean.

A Savior so passionate that He gave up everything so He could rescue me. His passion draws me close.

A Savior so dangerous that He braved hell itself and overcame. His courage makes me fearless.

Today is Good Friday and, as I’m thinking about all of this, my heart is no longer broken. Forgiveness floods over me. I am made whole by this loving, passionate and dangerous God.


The world out there is not whole. I am made whole but the world is still broken.

So, just as He carried His cross, I will choose to pick up mine and follow. Just as He rose, I too will rise because He’s rising in me.

Today is Good Friday and this is my vow.

To live with passion.

To carry love into a dying world.

And to be brave.


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