Good Friday reveals the paradox of Christianity. How can Christians mark the day of their leader’s brutal death as good? It is only by looking back on it from view of Sunday’s resurrection, realizing the atonement provided on that cross, full and spilling over with love. But from Friday to Sunday morning darkness and sorrow reign.
Here are a few selections from one of my favorite George Herbert poems for you to meditate on between now and when we gather to worship our risen Christ, the one who redeemed us with his own blood.
See you this Sunday, when grief turns to celebration and death begins to die.