As we consider Good Friday today we want to take time to remember Jesus’ death on the cross and what it signifies. Take some time alone, with a friend and/or with your family to remember these things today and to focus your heart and mind on these things.
“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.” – 1 Peter 2:24
“But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.” –Isaiah 53:5
“If your sin is small then your Savior will be small also. But if your sin is great, then your Savior must be great.” – Charles Spurgeon
Below is a couple devotionals that may be good to read as you consider Good Friday…
HOLY WEEK: GOOD FRIDAY
Overwhelmed with horror at what we are seeing, we join the crowds as they hurry along behind the soldiers with their prisoner. Forget the calm tableau of so many historic paintings of the scene, with Mary and John standing at a discreet distance from the foot of Jesus’ cross. In the Middle East, then as now, there were always more people in the crowd than would fit into the small streets, always people pushing and shoving. The soldiers might keep people at arm’s length, but not much more. There were probably fifty people within ten feet of Jesus, jostling, shouting, jeering, pointing, spitting. Some weeping.
You could tell the story a thousand different ways, and they’d all be true. Jesus’ followers quickly came to tell it in such a way as to bring out what Jesus himself had been trying to say all along, and what Matthew has been trying to tell us through- out his gospel: this is the event through which Jesus became king. King of the Jews. King of the world.
To see how Matthew has done this, you have to imagine yourself, in that crowd, as someone who has prayed and sung the Psalms all your life. The Psalms turn the hard lumps of Israel’s story and hopes into liquid poetry, flowing along like a great river, carrying you with it. And as you stand at the foot of the cross, you have a nightmarish sequence of flashbacks, of déjà vu moments, watching Israel’s hopes and dreams come to life, or rather to death, in front of your eyes. Bits and pieces of the Psalms, acted out right there. Jesus is offered sour wine to drink. They cast lots for his clothes. They hail him as ‘king of the Jews’. They mock him with his own words. And, after three hours of darkness, Jesus screams out the words that begin the Psalm (22) where some of those things happen: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ The fulfilment has come, and it is a moment of utter terror and hopelessness. It is as though the sun were to rise one day and it would be a black sun, bringing a darkness deeper than the night itself.
As you stand there in this strange, powerful mixture of recognition and horror, bring bit by bit into the picture the stories on which you have lived. Bring the hopes you had when you were young. Bring the bright vision of family life, of success in sport or work or art, the dreams of exciting adventures in far-off places. Bring the joy of seeing a new baby, full of promise and possibility. Bring the longings of your heart. They are all fulfilled here, though not in the way you imagined. This is the way God fulfilled the dreams of his people. This is how the coming king would overcome all his enemies.
Or bring the fears and sorrows you had when you were young. The terror of violence, perhaps at home. The shame of failure at school, of rejection by friends. The nasty comments that hurt you then and hurt you still. The terrible moment when you realized a wonderful relationship had come to an end. The sudden, meaningless death of someone you loved very much. They are all fulfilled here, too. God has taken them upon himself, in the person of his Son. This is the earthquake moment, the darkness-at-noon moment, the moment of terror and sudden faith, as even the hard-boiled Roman soldier blurts out at the end. (Don’t forget that ‘Son of God’ was a regular title claimed by Caesar, his boss.)
But then bring the hopes and sorrows of the world. Bring the millions who are homeless because of flood or famine. Bring the children orphaned by AIDS or war. Bring the politicians who begin by longing for justice and end up hoping for bribes. Bring the beautiful and fragile earth on which we live. Think of God’s dreams for his creation, and God’s sorrow at its ruin.
As we stand there by the cross, let the shouting and pushing and the angry faces fade away for a moment, and look at the slumped head of Jesus. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in him, here on the cross. God chose Israel to be his way of rescuing the world. God sent Jesus to be his way of rescuing Israel. Jesus went to the cross to fulfil that double mission. His cross, planted in the middle of the jostling, uncomprehending, mocking world of his day and ours, stands as the symbol of a victory unlike any other. A love unlike any other. A God unlike any other.
TODAY
Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all that you bore that day. Thank you for your victory, the victory of love and justice. Thank you that you are the Son of God.
GOOD FRIDAY REFLECTIONS ON ISAIAH 53
ANNE LINCOLN HOLIBAUGH
Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
and though the Lord makes his life an offering for sin,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand.
After he has suffered,
he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
and he will bear their iniquities.
–Isaiah 53:10-11, NIV
It is the will of the Father to crush His children at different times. Always in love. Always for His glory and, ultimately, their good.
I felt crushed by the Lord at this time several years ago. Broken, bruised and ripped raw as a result of disappointment, doubt and disobedience, my heart felt like a long, open-ended ache, and I found myself pleading for restoration like David in Psalm 51:8: “Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice.” Needless to say, I was having a hard time.
So when I heard the words of Isaiah 53, they resonated with me, comforted me. They began playing over and over in my mind, serenading my soul. “Yet it was the LORD’s will to crush Him and cause Him to suffer. It was the LORD’s will…to crush Him.”
I felt sure that if it was God’s will to crush the Son, then His intentions in crushing me must be kind as well. But how? I needed to understand.
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was crushed for my sin. He was pierced for my transgressions. He bore every failing and offense, all the moments of mistrust, doubt and disobedience. He was punished for every wicked inclination of my heart, for my bent to self-reliance and fear. He carried every one of my sorrows, every ounce of my spiritual sickness. My sin required the suffering of His soul.
Jesus took what I deserved and died in my place. He did it in love—in love for the Father and in love for me. And in being crushed, He crushed fully and forever the sin that kept me bound and far from Him.
I was in awe. And I started to see that my crushing was very different from that of Jesus.
The crushing I felt was not at all about punishment and, ironically, came because I had been forgiven for sin and adopted as a beloved child of God. Jesus’ crushing purchased for me the crushing of fatherly discipline. It had been laid upon me with a heavy and loving hand and was done for my good.
The Father had crushed me to keep me close, to remind me that moving apart from Him would always end badly. He was not punishing me and He was not mad at me. He was teaching me to trust Him even when I couldn’t see and did not agree or understand. It was an extravagant and excruciating mercy.
My crushing was about correction and conformity. But I needed help to see it rightly. I had to see my crushing through the lens of His in order to understand that it was love—not wrath.
As we remember the death of Christ this Good Friday, let us receive the consolation of the gospel. He crushed Jesus on our behalf. And at times He will crush us too, in love, that we might be conformed to the likeness of the Son, to the image of the One crushed.
Jesus, may we believe more in more in the weight and offense of our sin and the power of Your love and grace. Thank You for Your death and resurrection. Help us consider and reflect on who You are and what it means to be set free from our sin in You. Amen
