A Funeral on Good Friday
Perfect obedience was tested on this day thousands of years ago. Find a perfect lamb, slaughter it just right. Spread the blood on the doorpost as a sign of a covenant with God. If you don’t have a lamb, join in with a family who does. Only those who have done this will live. When the angel comes as the King of Kings instructed, he will know that you belong to God.
Fast forward hundreds of centuries, perfect obedience was once again tested. This time it was not the people of God who found the sacrifice, but God himself in the person of Jesus. Jesus was a person who never made a mistake, never spoke an untimely word, and never avoided conflict or hard conversations. He had perfect character and yet absorbed our grief and surrendered himself to the plan of God. He did not want a single one of us to lose their life to grief and disobedience. This was the only way to guarantee a homecoming for His children. His blood now marks our life and testifies that we love and belong to God.
Now, this week, in the year 2022, 855 days in a pandemic world, in the second year of the presidency of Joe Biden…
Each one of us is facing loss. I have lost friendships. I have lost the only real spiritual family I knew and now question ever belonging. I have lost the leaders I thought would take me into my future with God. I have lost a sense of confidence that things will all work out after witnessing two children lose their lives. I have lost sleep and peace trying to strategize in parenting. I have lost time to anxiety and grief. I bet you have a long list too.
I want us to hold a funeral today. On this Good Friday, when the best the world ever had was taken to the cross and killed, let’s offer our great losses up as well. The good we could have or should have but somehow don’t is our sacrifice to the One who leads us with love and understanding. We offer our broken friendships. We offer our disappointment. We honor the good that never came to pass.
Lord, we hold grief in our bodies and hearts this year just as you did. Help us let go and honor the needs we felt. Walk us gently into the future. Carry us through our weakness and fatigue. We need you to be our great physician, our wonderful counselor, and our hope for the future. Plant our tears and bring us a fruitful harvest in the next season.
We offer you this moment of silence as a way to make room for your living water to come and make things new.
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I’m sorry you have lost what was dear to you. I know you had hoped and planned for more. I’m here with you and when I struggle, I will pray for you. When I cry, I will pray for you. When I see a spark of joy, I will thank God for answering our prayers. You are vibrant, resilient, and sacred.
*one star for each of you