There’s a finality to Good Friday that sticks with me every year. Like all good Christians I know that when Jesus dies on Good Friday, it isn’t the end of the story. That doesn’t stop it, though, from feeling final.
Death is final, right? Power always wins. Turning the other cheek is for suckers.
Here’s the thing: In the back of our minds, even the most optimistic of us are kind of expecting everything to fall apart.
We’re constantly preparing ourselves for our hopes to be dashed. For our fears to be realized. For our nightmares to come true.
So when Jesus dies on Good Friday, we say, “Yep. Knew that was coming. That’s how it always goes.”
We’ve seen it happen too often before not to expect it again. And it always feels so final.
When you look at the roster and see you didn’t make the team, it feels final.
When you ask her to the prom and she says no, it feels final.
When addiction drags you back in one more time, it feels final.
When your boss tells you to clean out your desk, it feels final.
When your spouse asks you to move out of the house, it feels final.
When the bank issues a foreclosure notice, it feels final.
When the doctor says she has some bad news, it feels final.
When another prayer goes unanswered, it feels final.
When they nail your Savior to a cross, it feels final.
But it isn’t.
Hope dies on Good Friday. Love, too.
Our dreams. Our future. Our purpose. Our destiny. They all die on Good Friday.
And it feels SO final.
But it isn’t.
Easter is coming.
Rev. Matt Sapp
Central Baptist Church