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