Good Friday

April 10, 2020

Isaiah 52.13-53.12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 4.14-16; 5;7-9; John 18.1-19.42

+ The main theme in my sermons for this Lenten season was the theme of brokenness.

Brokenness. 

In many ways, that is what this day is all about.

Brokenness.

The Jesus we encounter today is slowly, deliberately being broken.

This moment we are experiencing right now is a moment of absolute and complete brokenness.

Brokenness, in the shadow of the cross, the nails, the thorns. Broken by the whips.  

Broken under the weight of the Cross.  

Broken by his friends,

Broken by his loved ones.

Broken by the thugs and the soldiers.

Broken by all those who turned away from him and betrayed him.

 In this dark moment, our own brokenness seems more profound, more real, as well.  

We can feel this brokenness now in a way we never have before.

Our brokenness is shown back to us like the reflection in a dark mirror as we look upon that broken Body on the cross.

 A few weeks ago, on hearing the death of Bishop Barbara Harris, I shared a quote she shared, that really spoke to many people, including myself.

Bishop once said,

“We are an Easter people living in a Good Friday world.”

This Lent, this time of pandemic and collection fear, has truly shown us what a Good Friday world is.

Today, on Good Friday, we know what a Good Friday world feels like.

We’ve been living it.

Yes, we have known brokenness in our lives.

We feel a kind of collective brokenness right now in our society.

We feel a collective brokenness in this world of pandemic and anxiety and fear.

There have been moments, recently when we may have felt like maybe it seems God has abandoned us, has deserted us, has turned away from us.

We have known those moments in which it seems sickness and death have prevailed and we feel helpless in the face of it all.

We have known those moments when we have lost someone we have cared for so much.  

We have known those moments of darkness in which we cannot even imagine what light is even like again.

But, for as followers of Jesus, we are an Easter people.

We live, always, even in the darkness of pandemics and sickness and death, in the light of Easter.

Even today, we know it—the Easter light— is there, just beyond our grasp.  

We know that what seems like a bleak, black moment will be replaced by the blinding Light of the Resurrection.  

What seems like a moment of unrelenting despair will soon be replaced by an unleashing of unrestrained joy.

This present despair will be turned completely around.

This present darkness will be vanquished.

This present pain will be replaced with a comfort that brings about peace.

This present brokenness will be healed fully and completely, leaving not even a scar.

In a few hours our brokenness will be made whole.

And will know there is no real defeat, ultimately.  

Ultimately there will be victory.

Victory over this pandemic and this time of quarantine and spiritual isolation.

Victory over everything we are feeling sadness over at this moment.

Victory over the pain, and brokenness, and loss, and death we are commemorating

This is what today is about.   

This is what our journey in following Jesus brings to us.

All we need to do is go where the journey leads us.

All we need to do is follow Jesus, yes, even through this broken moment.

And, in following, we—Easter people that we are—will know joy—even a joy that, for this moment, seems far off.