Growing up in a Baptist church, my family observed Good Friday and Easter Sunday. I remember loving the Good Friday service especially…it was dark and somber. The shades in the sanctuary were drawn. The worship team wore all black. There was a black piece of crepe fabric draped across the Cross.
And every year, at the end of the service, we watched a video. I would leave the sanctuary in tears and covered in goosebumps, embodying Paul’s exhortation to “mourn as those who have hope.”
As an adult, I fell in love with Ash Wednesday for the same reasons I love Good Friday, and it made me wonder. Are there other parts of the Lent and Easter narrative that I am missing?
Insert Holy Week.
Every moment of Jesus’s life – recorded or not – was intentional. Everything He said and did had purpose and a meaning deeper than we can ever humanly comprehend. And the week leading up to His death – an event He knew was coming – is saturated with more significance than I have words to convey.
I can’t give you every intent contained in the last week of Jesus’s earthly life. But I can do this for you – I can give you this guide, and pray it helps you discover more in this week than you knew existed.
So grab your Bible and a notebook, or just set aside a minute or two of time to read the Scripture here – it’s all linked for you! Each day will be published separately. Hop onto the email list, if you want it delivered straight to your inbox!
Blessings on your Holy Week, dear one. It is meant for you.
Today is Friday. It is 3 PM, and Jesus is dead.
Read: Matthew 27.15-26
Crowds. A crowd persuaded by religious leaders and elders. The crowd shouted. The mob. A riot.
All the people yelled back, “we will take responsibility for His death.” (v.25)
Jesus was not condemned to die by the religious leaders or by the political leader of the day. No, the people took responsibility for His death.
And not just any random people present at the moment. His people. The same people that had welcomed Him with open arms, sacrifice, and palm worship just five days earlier. The Greek word used denotes a people group, a tribe, a nation. It is a different word than the one that means ‘general public.’
This mob, this crowd, it was the people of God.
They took responsibility for putting Jesus to death – and they handed that responsibility down generation after generation.
We – and our children – take responsibility for His death.
And not just children in the offspring sense! All who are led by the Spirit of God and are therefore closely related to Him. The pupils and disciples of Jesus’s teachings. Children of God.
You and me – we are the children.
And we, too, are responsible for His death.
Read: Matthew 27.32-44
Jesus was attempting to carry His cross up the hill…the beating and flogging He sustained earlier this morning have left His back missing chunks of flesh. Bone was visible. He has lost so much blood He is in shock.
Our Lord would have been struggling to breathe, feeling heart palpitations, and disoriented. We know He was thirsty – His body was trying to rebalance fluid volume from the blood loss. He may have been dry-heaving and light headed.
It’s why Simon carried the Cross.
Jesus couldn’t.
At the top of the hill, Jesus is thrown to the ground, reopening wounds. The Romans drove nine-inch nails through Jesus’ wrists, severing major nerves, and sending shockwaves of radiating pain through His arms.
As the Cross is put into the ground, Jesus’s weight shifts, dislocating His shoulders and elbows. His arms stretch and stretch and stretch…six inches longer than they were before He was nailed to the Cross.
Then, nine-inch nails were hammered through the tops of His feet into the bottom of the Cross, and all His weight is borne by His ankles, severing nerves, ripping through soft tissue, and obliterating delicate foot bones.
The weight of Jesus’s body hangs down, altering the function of the diaphragm, the muscle that moves UP in order for us to release air from our lungs. In order to give His diaphragm space to move UP, Jesus must bear weight down onto His ankles, pushing His entire body higher on the Cross.
The difficulty to exhale leads to a slow form of suffocation.
His lungs collapse. He goes into heart failure. He’s dehydrated. And Jesus cannot get enough oxygen.
His heart is damaged, and with the stress crucifixion causes, the heart bursts.
Jesus’s heart broke, spiritually and physically.
Read: Matthew 27.45-54
And when Jesus’s heart broke, so did the world.
The earth shook. Rocks split apart. Graves were toppled. The Temple was irreversibly altered.
Life and faith as people knew it was over.
Why?
Because Sunday was coming.
Lord Jesus,
Thank You for expending so much of Your life simply to say, “Forgive her, Father. She does not know what she is doing. Forgive him, Father. He knows not what he is doing.” Thank You for willingly enduring humanity’s worst. Thank You for allowing Your heart to burst for me.
I confess that I am responsible for Your torture and Your death. I did this to You.
Forgive me.
I confess to glossing over the immense pain You endured on my behalf.
Forgive me.
I confess to not sitting with Your pain and the pain of others.
Forgive me.
I confess to feeling like Your death has little impact on my daily life.
Forgive me.
You re-wrote history today, Lord. You changed the course of mankind with Your words. You altered the course of my life with Your actions.
You truly are the Son of God!
I am tempted to feel the anguish and despair of Friday constantly, Lord. Even as I enter into Your suffering today and feel the weight of today, grow in me the hope that comes with knowing the end You have written.
Sunday came 2,000 years ago.
Sunday comes everyday for me because of this day. Because of Good Friday.
And Eternal Sunday still approaches.
Teach me to hold this in tension with the suffering of Good Friday. Even as I lean into the uncomfortability of pain, keep me centered on the hope we still have.
Hosanna, Lord Jesus. Come and save!
See you tomorrow🖤
P.S. This video never fails to give me goosebumps. I've watched it every Good Friday for as long as I can remember. You're welcome to join me in this tradition!