When I was little–that’s always code for the era of dinosaurs–every Good Friday was a day that tested my patience.
I could never understand what was so good about Good Friday.
I grew up in a home that put a lot of store into traditions. We didn’t have to know why we did things. We just did them.
Because they’d always been done that way.
Every Good Friday, for example, the four of us kids had to sit quietly for three hours. No TV. No reading. No talking. Just thinking. Definitely no fighting.
The four of us are five years apart. Even the thought of not being able to fight made the cantankerous juices flow.
Quiet, subversive rumbles. Poking. Whispered threats. Dirty looks.
Twitching and wiggling.
I see it in my grandkids now. Not that their folks make them sit still.
It wouldn’t work anyway.
But as an adult, I see the merit of being still and thinking.
What’s so good about Good Friday? Somebody died. Horribly.
That’s what’s difficult. That I can’t be good enough on my own. That I can’t do it my way and make it to heaven.
Because no matter how hard I try, I blow it. I can’t be perfect.
And God and heaven require perfection.
I don’t. I want the really good stuff.
I need the really best stuff.
But the fact that I can’t do it on my own makes me twitchy and wiggly.
Like a kid being told to obey. And really not wanting to. Because I want to do it myself.
There’s an adult response.
But God gets that about me. About all of us. We get twitchy when we’re not in control.
So He chose to give us a gift.
Not an expected gift. Not one wrapped in pretty paper or tied with a bow.
It’s actually a gift covered in blood.
Sounds awful. But it’s the best possible gift any of us could get.
That’s what’s so good about Good Friday.
He gave His life so ours could be saved.
“God saved you by His grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it.” Ephesians 2:8-9
There’s nothing for me to brag about because there’s nothing I can do to save myself.
I need to be more grateful. Less twitchy and wiggly.
Recognize my need. Not try to be what I’m not and can never become. Perfect.
That’s something really good. Embracing my reality so that I can experience His love and forgiveness.
What big ideas, big thoughts, big questions make you twitch and wiggle?