“It Must Be So.”

It’s hard to consider Good Friday good.

Maybe more like tragic, painful, heartbreaking, humbling, devastating, sickening.

But that’s when I look at Friday and forget about Sunday.

It’s when I look at the death of my Savior in the most humiliating, excruciating, demeaning manner–my King with nails in the exact same hands that gave sight to blind eyes, gave motion to lame legs, and gave breath to a dead man–and forget that, just two days later, He rose.

He died–because it must be so. From the beginning of the story, it had to be this way because our imminent death and sin and pain infiltrated the earth with a single bite of an apple. From that moment on, it must be so.

The same people who watched as He turned water into wine, who sat in awe as He fed five thousand with five loaves and two fish, who were left speechless as He walked effortlessly across raging water, who welcomed him mere days earlier with shouts of “Hosanna!” changed their cry to “Crucify Him!”

As promised hundreds of years prior, Christ was brought as a lamb to the slaughter. He didn’t hide his face from their shame and spitting. The one true Truth was called a liar, a fake, and a criminal, yet He didn’t defend Himself. Why?

“Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then must the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?” Matthew 26:53-54

His death created life everlasting. My King was murdered so that I may live.

He died, but He rose.

“Man’s Maker was made man, that He, Ruler of the stars, might nurse at His mother’s breast; that the Bread might hunger, the Fountain thirst, the Light sleep, the Way be tired on its journey; that the Truth might be accused of false witness, the Teacher beaten with whips, the Foundation be suspended on wood; the Strength might grow weak; that the Healer might be wounded; that Life might die.” (Augustine of Hippo)

Lord, my prayer on this best-of-all Fridays is that I would be one who falls at the foot of the cross, mourning Your death, yet rejoicing in Your promised resurrection. You give me confidence that You never break a promise, especially this one. Thank you for dying in my place, rising in power, and defeating death once and for all. You came for me. Help me live in light of this reality.

“God raised Him up, loosing the pangs of death, because it was not possible for Him to be held by it.” Acts 2:24

This Friday is good because Sunday is coming.


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