Have you ever wondered why they call it “Good Friday”?
“They” in this case apparently refers mostly to western (as opposed to eastern Orthodox) English-speaking, church-going types. I gather others opt for the term “Great Friday” or “Holy Friday” or some such thing. But I’ve spent my life among western English-speakers—Texan-speakers, anyhow—and being of a wondering disposition, I have long wondered . . .
What makes it good?
After all, this is the day we “celebrate” Jesus’ brutal beatings, humiliations, and ultimate death on the cross. Had we been on Golgotha that day, watching him suffer a slow, agonizing death, would we have considered it a good day? I seriously doubt it.
From a human perspective, that Friday was very bad indeed. But without that Friday, Easter Sunday would have no meaning. Because of that Friday, Easter Sunday means . . . everything.
So in retrospect, it was a good Friday after all.
Which leads me to wonder something else: How often do the times in our life that seem so very bad turn out to be the springboard for something wonderful?