He was not good looking.
He was not successful.
He was not envied.
He was a man of sorrows.
Acquainted with grief.
He knew what He was doing for me, and I did not.
I betrayed Him.
I rejected Him.
I misunderstood Him.
I misrepresented Him.
I gossiped about Him.
I deserted Him.
I beat Him.
I pierced Him.
I wounded Him.
I killed Him.
That is what makes Good Friday meaningful. Purposeful. Personal.
And yet He has come for me.
He always-and-forever-will-be for me.
And for you too.
It is unfathomable.
He went to the depths, and rose back up.
Because of Him, I will too.
Thank you, God, for Good Friday.
Thank you, God.
The sky is black.
Sunday is coming.
jsg/march 18