The Worst Friday

It amazes me how things change over time.

Today, on Good Friday in the year 2013, I could easily write about marriage and the changes folks want to see and how my heart grieves. Or I could write about the school system, adolescence, technology, the climate, world travel, laws and legislation; heck, I could write about Starbucks.

Almost anything you think of has changed over time.

One of those things, is this day we call "Good Friday."
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Before reading this, take a deep breath, put on your imagination hat, and picture yourself in the sandals of one of Jesus' first followers.
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You're in a bustling city whose population increased ten-fold this week. Families are gathered together to remember the Passover. This happens every year. But this year is different. Your mind is racing as you remember what went down last night.

Jesus,  the guy you've walked the rocky hillsides around Lake Gennesaret with for almost three years, washed your feet. He's the teacher. The servant is supposed to do the foot washing. After He did this humble act, He went on to tell you that you should wash each other's feet. James and John glared at each other like only brothers know how to glare. You were slightly shocked.

As the night went on, a cool breeze swept across freshly washed feet, finishing the drying process when Jesus said something you never would have expected.

With tears welling up in His eyes, your rabbi said, "I tell you the truth: one of you will betray me."

Your eyes race around the table. Your heart is pumping too fast for someone sitting at the dinner table. You see John leaning up against Jesus' chest. Peter motions to John saying, "Find out who the betrayer is." So John asked Jesus and He responded by dipping bread in a cup and handing it to Judas.

With a stone-cold poker face, Judas left the room.

Now eleven of you are sitting in this upstairs room of a house owned by someone you do not know. Jesus goes on and and talking. You hang on His every word. Without realizing it, you shake your head in confusion.

You whisper to yourself, "Did He just say the bread is His body and the wine is His blood?!"

Awkwardly, you follow every move Jesus makes, eating this last supper together.

The conversation continues while everyone reclines a little. Jesus speaks with clarity although the content is confusing you. Over and over, He mentions "this cup" which reminds you of the Psalms you once learned. You wonder what He is about to do when His eyes turn to the ceiling.

The prayer Jesus prays is unlike anything you've heard from Him before. He talks to God as if God is right there in the room.

Slowly, Jesus gets up and walks out the door. You scramble to get out the door and follow Him. Next thing you know, you're walking through the Kidron Valley, up the hill to the olive grove Jesus took you to so many times before.

That's when things get crazy.

Soldiers with swords, clubs, and cuffs meet you there in the dark trees with torches lit. Judas, the friend you shared so much of yourself with over the last few years, leads the group. You saw him greet Jesus with a kiss, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Jesus hardly spoke, except when Peter cut off a soldiers ear. You knew Peter was trying to cut off his head. Tension was high. You could almost smell the adrenaline. Your heart was about to leap out of your chest.

After Judas and the soldiers arrested Jesus, you waited through the night with the other disciples. Tired and confused, you didn't sleep a wink. Before the sun was up, an angry crowd of religious leaders gathered outside the court where Jesus was being questioned. You recognize a few of them from the week before when they questioned Jesus.

Next thing you know, in your half-awaken stupor, Pilate offers to set Jesus free!

There is hope! You hold yourself back from running to embrace Jesus. Then the crowd shouts for Barabbas. You remember that he is a terrorist, obviously guilty. Barabbas is set free.

While you stand there speechlessly shocked, you're blindsided by the shouting of the crowd.

"Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!"

Then the crack of a Roman soldier's whip pierces through the chaos.

The crowd cheers as you watch them beat Jesus through tears.

You can't help but think about the days you spent gutting fish while the sound of tearing flesh causes Jesus unthinkable pain. When they pierce his scalp with a crown made of thorns, you know now what He was talking about at dinner the night before.

A few hours later, soldiers pound nails through Jesus' hands and feet, and you have another flashback. This time you think about that day Jesus taught you how to swing a hammer. He was a carpenter before He invited you to follow Him.

The cross slams into the hole on top of that hill, and you snap back to reality.

You see Jesus' silhouette in the sunset and a clap of thunder nearly stops your heart. The flash of lightning makes you wince while the rain forces you to curl up in a ball. Speechless once again, you try to cry, but your tears have run dry.

The two other men being crucified that day are guilty. But, Jesus? You know He's done nothing wrong. Three years together and you never once saw Him sin. The sign above His head written in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew reads: This Is The King of the Jews. "Is that a crime worth being crucified?" you think to yourself.

Anger. Sorrow. Rage.
Fear. Frustration. Finality.

Emotions you never knew existed, run through you like blood in your veins.

Completely out of tears, you quietly walk away, Jesus gasping for air, hanging in the horizon.

This is the worst Friday imaginable.

You would never guess that some 2,000 years later, every calendar would label it "Good Friday."

And you would never guess what Sunday morning would bring...
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It amazes me how things change over time.

What will you be thinking about this Good Friday?