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Sitting in the Dark on Good Friday

I would like to skip Good Friday.

I would like the cross to not be a part of the story.

I would like to ignore darkness and suffering. 

I would like to deny the reality of violence and abuse.

I would like to turn my back on everything painful.

I would like to skip ahead to resurrection. 

Many days, I do exactly that. I turn towards distraction. I push through the to-do list. I look on the bright side. I drink wine and shake off the humming sense that all is not well with me and with the world in which I live. 

But today, I am invited to turn towards that darkness. To attend to the forces of sin and death. To stare at the brutality and weep.

And when I turn my face to see all that hatred and the power of evil and the coercive force of corruption and decay, I also see Jesus.

Who, even in the midst of the darkness, called upon God to forgive.

Who, even as his body collapsed, asked John to take care of his mother.

Who, even as he cried out in pain and desolation, cried out in hope.

And who, even as he struggled to face the power of evil, surrendered himself to the power of love

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