Good Friday
When we remember what you did for us.

Willingly.

You could have fought back when they met you in the garden.
Or you could have stood there calmly
and called the angels to fight for you.

You were the Lord of all Creation
allowing little people
to mock and spit on you
because you loved them.
Because you love me.

You could have swatted them away like insects.
You could have brought down thunder and lightning,
earth-drenching floods and shattering quakes.

Instead you let them whip you with leather and glass.
You let them press a thorny crown onto your forehead.
You loved them as they laughed at you.
You loved me as they laughed at you
and beat you to exhaustion.

You picked up the cross
and carried it until your physical body crumpled.

You could have left that broken body there, then.
You could have healed it new.
You could have cursed the crowd around you.

Instead you got up
and stumbled to the top of the hill.
You lay down upon the cross.
You spoke with love as they nailed you to the beam.
"Father, forgive them.
They don't know what they are doing."

You knew.
You had known it was coming
as you cried and pleaded in the garden
asking the Father if there was any other way…

They lifted the beam,
dropped it onto the post,
stepped back,
and looked up
at the crucified
Son of God.

This was the only way.
You are the only way.

Two thousand years later
we look back
and see that it was good,
the Friday our savior
died for our redemption.

Though not as good
as the Sunday that followed.