But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, And by His scourging we are healed.
"Good" Friday?
Pierced, crushed, chastened, and scourged. How can this day be called Good Friday? It is the day marking the most brutal treatment imaginable of the One Who gave Himself up to the punishment I deserve. The day He was mocked, beaten, spit upon, and ultimately murdered. For me. For you. And we dare to call it “good?”
In all likelihood, the term “good” comes from the Old Middle English usage (like from around 1300 AD), where “good” meant pious or holy. From that perspective, it begins to make a bit more sense.
But I still chafe at the term. I ache because of the way I so quickly blow by the horror of the day. I marvel that I can go through the day like it’s just another day. But it isn’t. It is the day marking the death of the Savior of the World. The day marking the initiation of the New Covenant, written with — and authenticated by — the blood shed by God’s only Son! I call myself a follower of Jesus, and yet minimize the significance of the day.
How have we become so calloused to the meaning of today? Are we so caught up in our own little lives that the majesty and magnitude of His gift escapes us? Have we forgotten that if He hadn’t gone through “Good” Friday, there would be no resurrection, no Easter, and no redemption for us? We would still be dead in our sins (Ephesians 2:1) with no hope of redemption.
Lord, may this day never fail to inspire dread and fear, along with hope for the new life You purchased for us. May we never forget the brutality of the treatment you underwent — and the gift it became for us.
Rick is the well-loved husband of Sherry for over 54 years, dad to 3 remarkable children and their spouses, and Poppy to 8 beautiful grandchildren.