Good Friday —
Sometimes I am part of the worship team for the Good Friday service, others years I’m not. This year I sat in the congregation and got to take the service in with no responsibilities. Both playing and not have their pros and cons, but not playing was good for me this year. It’ felt good not to have the extra music on my plate this week.
One part of this special service is the letter writing. It has become a tradition at our church that we write a letter to God during this service. We put our name on it and put it in a basket in the back of the church. The following year we get our letter from the year before back. I have my letters from the last several years now. Some times I find my thoughts, prayers, needs, and hopes have changed very little from one year to the next. Other years I think, “I was a totally different person when I wrote this letter.”
Now, when you hear “Good Friday service”, the word “joy” probably isn’t the first one to come to mind. Most people were black, it’s usually a very solemn service in which we remember the stations of the cross.
The Good Friday service I attended today was just that. I wore black, it was solemn, we visited Jesus at several points of his last day. But within this message about the day Jesus died other strains could be heard. Strains of hope, anticipation, and expectation, because while the disciples may not have, we know how this story ends. We know that Friday is not the end of Jesus’ life, but simple a semi-colon.
Today’s joy is the promise that Sunday’s coming.