Susan Narjala
Keeping it Real
Where Sorrow and Love Flow Mingled Down
My 13-year-old daughter and I were chatting about Sunday service at our church when she commented, “You know, mama, when the speaker asked the congregation what important day was coming up, I almost said, “Black Friday” instead of “Good Friday.”
Clearly, Black Friday sales seem to be deeply ingrained in my daughter’s teenage psyche. She has inherited her mama’s genes for sniffing out good shopping deals and indulging in some good ol’ retail therapy.
But as I thought about what she said, I realized that Good Friday does encompass darkness—not the darkness of evil but the darkness of grief. In fact, Scripture says that darkness covered the whole land till about three in the afternoon that day (Luke 23). As we contemplate Jesus’ last hours, we see profound grief and deep sorrow and unimaginable agony. In India (where I live), in my native language Malayalam, Good Friday is called dukka velliyazhcha, translated as Sorrowful Friday.
Of course, Good Friday is “good” because Calvary is not the end of the story, and darkness does not have the final say. We have hope because of the empty tomb and Resurrection Sunday. We can call Good Friday “good” because, through Christ’s sacrifice on Calvary, we have freedom from our former slavery to sin and shame. And that is not just good news but the most excellent news!
But do we move too quickly past Gethsemane and Golgotha to focus on the good news instead of also holding place for grief?
As a culture, and even within the church, we are uncomfortable with grief and sorrow. The world advocates ideals of thinking positive, “getting over” grief and moving on. We prefer sanitized happy endings to truly grappling with the horror and agony of Calvary.
But the Cross? The Cross is not something we “move on” from. The Cross compels us to stop and to look into the face of the One who poured out His life even unto death.
This is not about us trying to manufacture an appropriate level of sadness for Good Friday. This is about focussing on Jesus. In considering Him who endured such opposition, we are brought to our knees in repentance and strengthened in our faith when suffering sucker punches our lives.
Friend, this Good Friday, would you make room to consider the darkness and agony Jesus endured? In that dark moment when Jesus took on Himself the depravity and filth of the whole world, His Father had to look away. I cannot comprehend the isolation of that moment when Jesus cried out: “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?” I cannot comprehend the grief of the Father as the One who knew no sin became sin for us.
One of my readers (thanks, Sara) suggested a song to listen to during this Holy Week. This is a familiar song, but it always shakes me to my core: Via Dolorosa or the Way of Suffering.
He was bleeding from a beating, there were stripes upon His back
And He wore a crown of thorns upon His head
And He bore with every step
The scorn of those who cried out for His death
Down the Via Dolorosa called the way of suffering
Like a lamb came the Messiah, Christ the King
But He chose to walk that road out of
His love for you and me
Down the Via Dolorosa, all the way to Calvary
I don’t know what grief or pain you have endured recently. But your God knows. And not only does He know about it, but He also experienced it. He endured mockery, insults, physical torture, betrayal, denial, rejection, desolation, isolation, and even death.
Today take some time to survey the wondrous and gruesome Cross. May the darkness of grief settle in your heart as you contemplate what He endured for you. And then know that He confronted and defeated darkness so that you can experience victory.
This Good Friday, hold space for both grief and goodness, for both sorrow and love. We don’t have to put on somber expressions, but we can look into the face of the Man of sorrows, familiar with suffering, who was pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities. And in doing so we are brought to our knees in repentance and awe.
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Comments
One Comment
Sara
Love this. Made me think about how God has taught me a lot this year about forgiving myself. When I’m having a hard time doing so – and having a hard time accepting His forgiveness – when I remember what Jesus suffered, it helps. When I’m praying, I say, “Lord, since You’re not mad at me and since You bore my sins and forgave me (and I think about the cross), now I forgive myself.” But if I don’t remember Jesus’ suffering, it seems too cheap and not enough to truly forgive me, like my sins are too heinous to wash away with a few I’m-sorry’s or repentance or anything else I might do. But remembering the price Jesus paid and how precious is His blood… how can I not accept forgiveness? How can I pretend that anything I do costs more than what He is worth? It’s still difficult sometimes, but He is so patient with me. Thanks again for this!
Lots of love!