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This Friday they call good.

This day. 
This Friday they call good. 
This day that was anything but good.
Cross and nails and thorns and blood.
This day that the earth shook
and the sun blackened
when the wrath of God was spent.

Poured out in full
upon the Holy One 
who became our very sin.
And if that were not enough
we, the very ones He died to save, beat and spat and cursed His Holy Name.

This day. This Friday called good.
This day when the veil was rent 
when mercy and grace bowed low
as the Holy One begged forgiveness on our behalf
then the Holy One, Jesus, breathing His last – “It is finished.”

And darkness covered the land
it appeared that evil had won.
Silence in the heavens.
Silence on the earth.
Silence as we waited for God’s plan to unfold.

This day. This Good Friday.
Can only be called “Good” in light of Sunday when the earth shook and stone rolled away.
And in this we can rejoice
our sins were crucified 
and our debt was paid
and death bought life on this good, good day.

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