Good Friday Passage and Post

Read this account from Mark 15. Read it slowly, and meditatively. While you read remember while this day is called Good Friday it wouldn’t be good for another three days…

Mark 15 (The Message)

At dawn’s first light, the high priests, with the religious leaders and scholars, arranged a conference with the entire Jewish Council. After tying Jesus securely, they took him out and presented him to Pilate.

Pilate asked him, “Are you the ‘King of the Jews’?” He answered, “If you say so.” The high priests let loose a barrage of accusations.

Pilate asked again, “Aren’t you going to answer anything? That’s quite a list of accusations.” Still, he said nothing. Pilate was impressed, really impressed.

It was a custom at the Feast to release a prisoner, anyone the people asked for. There was one prisoner called Barabbas, locked up with the insurrectionists who had committed murder during the uprising against Rome. As the crowd came up and began to present its petition for him to release a prisoner, Pilate anticipated them: “Do you want me to release the King of the Jews to you?” Pilate knew by this time that it was through sheer spite that the high priests had turned Jesus over to him.

But the high priests by then had worked up the crowd to ask for the release of Barabbas. Pilate came back, “So what do I do with this man you call King of the Jews?”

They yelled, “Nail him to a cross!”

Pilate objected, “But for what crime?”

But they yelled all the louder, “Nail him to a cross!”

Pilate gave the crowd what it wanted, set Barabbas free and turned Jesus over for whipping and crucifixion.

The soldiers took Jesus into the palace (called Praetorium) and called together the entire brigade. They dressed him up in purple and put a crown plaited from a thornbush on his head. Then they began their mockery: “Bravo, King of the Jews!” They banged on his head with a club, spit on him, and knelt down in mock worship. After they had had their fun, they took off the purple cape and put his own clothes back on him. Then they marched out to nail him to the cross.

There was a man walking by, coming from work, Simon from Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus. They made him carry Jesus’ cross.

The soldiers brought Jesus to Golgotha, meaning “Skull Hill.” They offered him a mild painkiller (wine mixed with myrrh), but he wouldn’t take it. And they nailed him to the cross. They divided up his clothes and threw dice to see who would get them.

They nailed him up at nine o’clock in the morning. The charge against him—the king of the Jews—was printed on a poster. Along with him, they crucified two criminals, one to his right, the other to his left. People passing along the road jeered, shaking their heads in mock lament: “You bragged that you could tear down the Temple and then rebuild it in three days—so show us your stuff! Save yourself! If you’re really God’s Son, come down from that cross!”

The high priests, along with the religion scholars, were right there mixing it up with the rest of them, having a great time poking fun at him: “He saved others—but he can’t save himself! Messiah, is he? King of Israel? Then let him climb down from that cross. We’ll all become believers then!” Even the men crucified alongside him joined in the mockery.

At noon the sky became extremely dark. The darkness lasted three hours. At three o’clock, Jesus groaned out of the depths, crying loudly, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

Some of the bystanders who heard him said, “Listen, he’s calling for Elijah.” Someone ran off, soaked a sponge in sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Let’s see if Elijah comes to take him down.”

But Jesus, with a loud cry, gave his last breath. At that moment the Temple curtain ripped right down the middle. When the Roman captain standing guard in front of him saw that he had quit breathing, he said, “This has to be the Son of God!”

The Lingering of Loss

I lost my dad over a year and half ago.

The problem is that statement isn’t true. But it feels true.

I haven’t lost my dad, and he hasn’t lost me. I will never lose my dad. It just feels that way. He’s not lost to me we’re just separated at the moment. One day we’ll be back together. That’s the promise of the gospel. The trouble is that the separation is so deep, it’s so long, and sometimes its too much. Death is separation. Death is wrong. And there are some days more than others that I wish I could bridge that abyss called death.

On Sunday I felt so at home at our church. I preached about what I care about. I saw people touched by God. I was touched by him. And as we drove home Krista turned to me and said, “I saw and heard your dad so much in your preaching today.” That was a sermon my dad would have preached. I knew that when I was preaching. It was the type of day I would have liked to just call up my dad and talk about the service like we used to for close to 20 years. I wanted him to be able to share in the beauty of grace and acceptance I found on Sunday with me.

That’s what makes the separation so hard. It’s the “with me” part that I miss. Because at some times dad’s so close. I’m preaching, sharing, teaching, or just living and it seems like he is right there. Like I could sense him, pick up the phone and talk to him, or see him in the crowd smiling. This is why I feel like I’ve lost my dad. This is why separation isn’t a strong enough word for the pain of death. Death is evil in any form, at any time, and in any way. Paul says death is the last enemy. I know that enemy.

But while death may be the last enemy; death is not an enemy that will last. Because death has already been beaten. Jesus died to destroy death. Or more theologically put: Jesus dies to kill death.

So separation is here. But it won’t last. Death’s time is running out. So I may be separated from my dad, but he’s not lost. I’m in the waiting time. And I guess when we finally see each other again – I’ll just have lots of sermons, Sundays, and services to talk about. But at that point we’ll have time to catch up…

Lent and Death

Over the past few days I’ve been reflecting more and more on death. Often during Lent I try to reflect on sacrifice, Jesus’ death, and what it all means.

It’s not something we often talk about is it?

Death isn’t a dinner party topic. Sacrifice isn’t something you share at picnics. I think that’s because its heavy, real, and difficult. But just because something is difficult, doesn’t mean it should be avoided.

So for the next few weeks of Lent every now and then I’ll post some of my thoughts on death, sacrifice, and meaning found in the dark. It might be heavy, but by going through some heavy thinking and reflecting now, it can help later.

So to begin the process maybe take some time and reflect on these questions:

  • What makes death so hard?
  • What questions about death or sacrifice do you have?
  • Why did Jesus have to die anyway?

Then over the next few weeks I’ll post some of my thoughts. But to start, what are your thoughts?