Good Friday

"And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, He gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks split."

Matthew 27:50-51

It's Good Friday. I say this every year but the name seems almost a mockery of what it represents. Indeed, Sunday is coming and that takes on a whole new level of reflection. As I think on the significance of this day and the suffering that led to the empty tomb, I cannot separate the grief my heart feels alongside overwhelming gratitude.

You gave up Your life. You took my place. I recognize the price You paid and yet I could never fully understand what it truly cost You.

Was I really worth it?

I've asked myself that question so many times. I know You know because I've asked You the same question even more. Was I worth it to You?

I grapple with my value too often and then I suffer my own guilt over how I diminish Your love for me. You must need me to realize You had me on Your mind even while You hung on that cross.

Me? Even me.

The thought overwhelms me. You knew how small my faith would be at times. You knew how much I'd question You. You knew every circumstance I would repeatedly try to control despite Your will. You knew of my unfaithfulness. You knew my sin - every single one and the collective whole of my sin. You knew me - every single wretched part of me - and yet You came. You died. You paid my debt. All so You could make a way for me - even me - to be by your side.

Humility doesn't seem to be the right response and I can't find enough gratitude to give You what You are due. I love You, more than I can express and yet with the fullness of understanding how much You love me. Thank You for the cross, Lord. Thank You for loving me that much.


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