Lewisvillelife

I woke up this morning thinking about that day. That day that Jesus was in such agony that he sweat literal blood. Those moments in the garden give enough to ponder for days. But, that bloody agony was only the beginning. After resolving “your will, God, not my own”…came piercings of all kind. Physical: his body felt the pain of being broken and torn. Emotional: he was rejected, mocked, and humiliated. Spiritual: the deepest piercing of all, his father looked away from him. He felt sins excruciating separation from God himself.

“He who knew no sin became sin for us…..”

Christians know the gospel is one big “BUT GOD!” We don’t live in The Friday. It’s not the end of the story. But, it’s a major part. A crucial one.

So, this year I wanted to really reflect on, and rightly mourn, those hours leading up to that glorious moment.

The goal for me is two fold: That I would intentionally put myself in the shoes of those that day who weren’t saying to one another “Sunday is coming!” And that the light of Sunday would shine even brighter because of reflecting on, and sitting in, the utter darkness leading up to it.

I thought I would invite those of you who wanted to, to “walk through” these next hours with me, using one of my favorite songs as a sort of (broad) guide to mull over the paradoxes and to weep, wonder, and worship (in your own detailed ways) —

Friday, March 30

[Afternoon]
My Jesus, fair, was pierced by thorns,
By thorns grown from the fall.
Thus he who gave the curse was torn
To end that curse for all

[Evening]
My Jesus, meek, was scored by men
By men in blasphemy
“Father forgive their senseless sin”
He prayed for them, for me.

Saturday, March 31

[Morning]
My Jesus, kind, was torn by nails,
By nails of cruel men.
And to His cross, as grace prevailed,
God pinned my wretched sin.

[Evening]
My Jesus, pure, was crushed by God,
By God, in judgment just.
The Father grieved, yet turned His rod
On Christ, made sin for us.

SUNDAY, April 1st

My Jesus, strong, shall come to reign,
To reign in majesty.
The Lamb arose, and death is slain.
Lord, come in victory!