Well, that's what most people think about today. Today is Good Friday. I could link you to a whole bunch of info, but let's just explain it in sum: Jesus died after the beating of three lifetimes and all other kinds of hellacious torment...
...and that's the mild version.
He was beaten with a cat-o-nine-tails and then some. Skin and bone and flesh wore torn asunder and... actually you should read this post from Kris Miyake. He puts this very well:
Good Friday embodies everything that is ugly about ourselves. It rips open our pretense about how gifted we are, how good we are, and how spiritual we are and brings us face to face with the fact that we are the reason God died. I will never understand how Someone who never felt physical pain before could endure the first crack of a bone and metal laced whip as it violated his flesh and sliced across His back. What it felt to have His back torn to literal shreds as blood coursed out and repainted the stone floor. To have large spikes driven through bones and arteries.
That came from "Lost In The Mix", written by Kris and posted on Facebook.
I think about this day every year. Everyone else is thinking about Easter and family and church. I'm thinking about being a murderer. Honestly, as much as this day sucks (and is very much downplayed as such), if it weren't for this day, Easter would be irrelevant. The resurrection doesn't matter if the death doesn't happen beforehand; indeed, because of that death, history is divided in half.
The result? Well, something like this (again, by Kris):
What is that real truth? If we truly recognize what happened in that garden, at that flogging post, and on that cross 2000 years ago, we can no longer live our lives the way we do. God was beaten, tortured, and brutally killed to redeem you. HE DIED FOR YOU. I can no longer make my own decisions in life. He died so I could live.
That's why I can't just accept His grace and then go off drinking and smoking, going into the career I want and doing things my way. I now have a responsibility to honor Him with my life as He honored me with His death. I can't look at the cross and act like I can do the things I know grieves Him and plead grace.
So we look past it. We say a quick prayer, "Thank you for dying on the cross for me." We don't think about what it means, or else we would actually pray about the people we date and the colleges to go to. We just ignore the bloody and sweaty reality of the cross and admire it from afar. The Church fills its seats with posh surroundings and numbs people to the reality of it all. We teach that its ok to live life my way, as long I as "honor" Him on Sunday and those special two days.
Italics are mine and that's about the truth of the matter. I walked to work reading this article in its entirety and I walked down thinking about how all of this impacted me and I realized something at the time I was thinking about: I don't care right now.
Confused yet? Keep following.
I looked at my bracelet, my belt and a rosary-styled necklace I had on. Total count: I had seven crosses on. Seven while reading about the crucifixion and how do I feel about this? I don't care. I don't want to go to church Sunday and pretend that I do and I can't think of where a Good Friday service is happening now because I'm not connected to church around here.
I waste time. I eat junk food. I swear in speech and print and I don't pray every day or even every week. It's not like I never do, but there isn't a special time for it or anything. I haven't been to church in forever; it almost seems like a foreign land. I make bad decisions for things on a regular basis.
You can quote any and all of that against me if you want to.
The fact is: this blog is not going to be me telling you what you should be doing. This is telling you what I've discovered on my walk and hoping it helps you. The fact is: I'm not perfect. I'm fine with that for now. This blog is honest and gritty and mean and in our faces -- no, not just yours. As a matter of fact, the next sentence kicked my tail more than yours.
I walked off the bus and thought thought thought about what on earth to do after reading this stuff on Good Friday. After thinking for several minutes, I started praying, "God, what would You have to do to get me home? What would I need to do to get back home...?" I was listening to a song by Atreyu at the time. My iPod has 559~ songs on it and the iPod was set to shuffle. This song, "Ravenous" was well ahead in that list with a few songs after it. The very next song I heard: "I Dare You To Move" by Switchfoot.
Okay, God, I hear You.
This is my saving grace: I may not always talk to God, but I always listen. I hear the whispers and the shouts and everything in between and I take heed to them.
Remember this as it will guide you well: Slow to speak, quick to hear. A willing heart is all He needs.
That said, why am I writing this? To bring your attention to this day. Figuratively or literally, go to the cross today and ask what He requires of you. He answers.
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