Good Friday: Forsaken

"Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani? My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" - Mark 15:34

Humans are strange creatures. We are petty, we are cowardly and we are untrustworthy. We lie, cheat, steal and kill our brothers and sisters. But the thing that truly defines us is our mortality. No matter who you are or how much money or power you might have, you cannot escape the inevitable. Our whole lives are spent outrunning death...until we grow weary or are caught off guard.

I don't know about you, but I'm terrified of death. I don't understand it. I don't understand why we lose the people we care about, one by one. I don't know if anything lies beyond the final breath or the last flicker of electricity in the brain. I don't even like to think about it.

Tonight, I have to think about it. Tonight, Jesus died. He was tortured and nailed to a cross where he hung for hours, bleeding his life out from the wounds in his hands and his side. He was sent here for this; to die. I know this story, but it is still painful to be reminded of it.

Over the past week, death has hung over every aspect of my life. One of my professors, a man I considered a friend and mentor, died suddenly in his sleep eight days ago. The anniversary of another friend's death is next week and I know other friends have suffered similar losses. It feels like the whole world is dying.

And I'm supposed to believe in a resurrection?

I don't know if I can.

Like the disciples at dusk on Friday evening, I'm lost. I'm forsaken. I'm not sure how to function anymore. The idea that all this death could have some purpose seems trite. This night, I must wrestle with the grave; struggle with its meaning. Tonight, my savior lies in a tomb, betrayed by his friends and savagely cut down by the same people who praised his entrance Sunday morning.

"Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?"

Good Friday: A Scared Disciple Flees

"I left everything to follow him. I left my mother and father. I abandoned my way of life and the town where I've spent my entire life. He told to me to follow him and I just did. It was like God himself was parting the heavens and nudging me in Jesus' direction. It just felt right.


"Things were great for a long time. I traveled all over witnessing miracles — Jesus restoring sight to the blind, healing the sick, and feeding five thousand people with just a few fish and a couple loaves of bread. I have seen things I can't even begin to describe.


"But it wasn't all spectacle. There were quiet nights in sleepy towns where we would gather around a small fire and Jesus would talk for hours. Sometimes he would argue with Peter or Judas. Sometimes he would tell us beautiful things about the kingdom that was to come. Sometimes, he would just joke around.


"I really thought he was going to be the Messiah. I thought that final push into Jerusalem would signal the start of the rebellion; the glorious beginning of a new kingdom here on Earth, with Jesus on the throne as our king and the Romans cowering in fear.


"When we came into town on Sunday, it sure felt like we were about to do something great. People flocked to see Jesus come into town. They threw their cloaks and palm branches down before him and praised his name. Then, he threw the hypocrites out of the temple. It seemed like a new era was at hand.


"But I guess we were wrong. I guess it just wasn't in the cards. It's still so fresh that I'm not even sure where we went wrong. Things were going great and then all this talk of death and carrying on the message. Like Jesus was just giving up.


"They arrested him. They beat him senseless, until he could barely stand. I'm sure they must have broken something, they hit him so hard. They stripped off his clothes and divided them among the guards. People screamed and spat. There was nothing any of us could do, except watch in shock as the last three years came crashing down.


"They tortured him on that cross. I could see from where I was standing that he was suffering more than any man had ever suffered before. My God, my God, why have you forsaken us?


"He died. He should have been the new King of Israel, the Messiah, and there he hung, lifeless, from a cross. They killed my friend; my teacher; my God. And I ran. I ran without looking back. I ran until my lungs burned and my knees gave out and I fell into the dusty road. I wept and screamed. He's dead. And we're probably all next. The talk of love, of eternal life, and of fulfilling the Scriptures was all just a beautiful dream and this is reality.


"Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani? My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Grace to a Sinner

On that dark day at Calvary, Jesus was crucified alongside two criminals. In Luke 23:39-43, one of the criminals is indignant. He yells at Jesus, saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!"

The second criminal rebukes him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? ⁴¹And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong."

There are times when I wonder who I am in this account. Am I the bitter criminal hurling insults at God? Or am I the man who knows that I am rightfully condemned and have no one to blame but myself?

I will admit there are times when I am bitter. I get angry at God. I feel abandoned when things don't go right; when it feels the entire universe is conspiring against me. And so I scream to the heavens and demand an answer and compensation. I feel that God owes me something and is denying me the good that I deserve. After all, how many tests am I supposed to silently suffer through before I can ask when it will all pay off?

It's about this time that I remember how much I am like the second man on the cross that day. When I look at my life, I am often ashamed of what I see. I have the capacity to be a very un-Christian person. I am judgmental, lazy, cruel, selfish, hateful, lustful, and gluttonous. I don't consider others before myself. I put earthly gains over spiritual pursuits. I'm not just a sinner, I'm a repeat offender — taking forgiveness and then slipping back into my old ways. There is evidence to put me away. I'm guilty and I know it.

The criminal understands that he belongs up on a cross, dying slowly and painfully for his crimes. He takes a chance in what he says next: "Jesus, remember me when you come into^* your kingdom."

Surprisingly, Jesus' words to this man are not words of judgment or condemnation. He doesn't call down fire and brimstone, but instead offers words of comfort and grace. "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

We don't know what this man did to deserve his punishment. Jesus doesn't ask and it really doesn't matter whether he participated in a rebellion against the Empire or committed a murder — because he's us. Yet, Jesus is merciful to everyone, even those of us who count ourselves among the worst of sinners. That grace is something I don't fully understand. My sentence is just, yet Jesus says that I will be with him in Paradise.

I don't feel like I deserve it. I feel terrible, like I'm taking advantage of the system. But grace is a free gift, given to sinners like me. It's a promise that even when the world appears to be crashing down — when I'm condemned — God is with me, suffering with me. Even when I curse his name, he loves me. His grace truly is amazing.