A Great Friday

Good Friday is probably my favorite day of the year. I actually find solace in knowing I'm a sinner. Maybe it makes me feel better for the naughty things I do or maybe it makes the gift of Jesus so much more awesome. Good Friday evokes a lot of emotion for me. The images of a beaten, battered savior on a cross for ME, the closing of the tomb, the expectation of the resurrection. It's just too much for me to take sometimes. The service, no matter where we attend, always finds me at the end dabbing my eyes. (Of course, I'm pretending I have something in my eye) At most churches we've attended there has always been some symbolic act like hammering a nail into a cross or dropping a rock in a bucket to make a loud noise. This year, the youth of our church did a shadow show behind a large white curtain. Because of the shadows, it felt like the message was that more poignant. Dallas was in awe of the whole thing. He watched with anticipation to see what would happen. It's what he said next that started the tears. He watched as the guards mocked and pushed Jesus down and said "Oh No, Don't go pushing MY Jesus!" He sure is something! Which reminds me of my favorite Good Friday/Easter Story. When my sweet little sister Debbie was 3 or 4, we went to a Good Friday service. At the end of the service, while everyone is walking out in silence. Debbie says "What happened? Why is everyone sad?" to which we replied "Jesus died." She shook her head and said "Oh No" and did not say a word the rest of the night. On Sunday morning, the pastor came out with shouts of "He is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!" To which Debbie, equally loud, shouted "JESUS IS ALIVE!" Of course everyone looked at her, touched at her ability to understand the Easter story at such a young age. What they did not know, of course, was that to young Debbie's child mind; our Pastor, with his beard and shaggy hair WAS Jesus and to see him come out on Easter morning was indeed a resurrection!