THIS IS THE MESSAGE OF GOOD FRIDAY

LORD, 
As I think of you dying on a cross, 
     and as I look at this cross today,  
          I think of all the crosses I own. 

The gold one – engraved so beautifully; 
     the silver one – plain but wonderfully faceted; 
          the one encrusted with diamond-like stones,
the polished one – that looks perfect; 
     the holding cross – which I can feel in my hands;
the glass cross – given to me by a dear friend; 
     the cross I made on Good Friday, many years ago,
          from two pieces of rough wood  
               and a few well-placed nails
and then today’s cross - made from two pieces of wood
     found in our garden and nailed together.

All these crosses are so beautifully crafted but
     the reality of YOUR cross was very different – 
          the pain you suffered was so severe  
               that I am genuinely moved to tears 
                    when I think of how you suffered for me. 
Your back was ripped apart by the scourging 
     and I cannot begin to understand the pain,  
          the exhaustion, the loss of blood,  
               the severe cramps, the agony 
                    and the difficulty in breathing that you faced. 
You were nailed to the cross 
     and the strain on your wrists,  
          arms, body, shoulders and legs 
               would have caused your lungs to collapse 
and your heart almost fail. 

The crown made of thorns was pressed onto your head 
     with such force that it gouged out lumps of flesh  
          so that blood oozed down your face -  
that sinless face -  
     but now disfigured by your own blood. 
How can I even bear to look? 
     But I must look! 

You were willing to suffer and die for me  
     on that cruel cross – 
          not a beautifully carved cross,  
but a rough-hewn one  
     with long, spiked nails holding you there  
          that brought pain and agony to your whole body.
You loved me SO much that you were willing  
     to endure all that shame and pain  
          so that I could be saved. 
And even after all this you said, 
     “Father, forgive them.............” 
You, who was “without sin” was “made sin”  
     and died a criminal’s death to save me, 
          because you loved me. 
WHAT sort of love is that? 
WHO am I,  
     that you were prepared to die in my place? 
You bore the sin of the world, 
     because you loved us, 
          because you loved ME. 
Yet you died ALONE... 
     cut off from God -  
          calling out to Him, 
“My God, my God, 
     why have you abandoned me?” 
Your life was given for me, 
     your blood was shed for me, 
          you died for me. 
What can I do to thank you for such love? 

Lord as I look at your cross today, 
     and remember how you died, 
          help me NOT to sanitise it, 
but help me to understand 
     that because of your death 
          your love lives on in me, 
               and for that reason 
YOUR CROSS IS BEAUTIFUL. 

© Maureen Iles 2012 - amended 2/4/2021