Good Friday: Ripped
It's Good Friday and I read this today:
I see Jesus and then I see these words:
And then I see myself and my sin and I see these:
Piled upon Him
And I see His suffering and I see
Made us whole
And I can't get away from Ripped.
Usually I see that word and think about paper or something flimsy that is easily torn. But we are talking about a person. To think about a human being ripped and torn, about your mom or your dear friend or your child being ripped, that's vivid and horrifying.
People aren't like paper; they have bones and flesh and souls and dreams and abilities and hopes and laughter. And He wasn't just a person. He was fully a person AND fully God, God-King.
God was shredded. That's what happened today on Good Friday.
My almost 10 year old asked as I was writing this: Why is it called Good Friday when it's when Jesus was crucified, mom? That's not good.
Oh buddy...He was crushed and killed for our good, bud. It was horrible...for our good. So we could be made whole and healed. Ripped for our good.
And then I see that there was somehow, in some way, Joy involved on Jesus' end. He saw that this was the way, that it was somehow good, and for the joy set before Him, endured the cross. He saw that this was good, though be it horrifying. He chose joy in the middle of anguish. He fixed His eyes on things above and endured the cross. We have a good, good Father who sent a good, good Son. Who was soon...soon....raised from the grave by a good, good Spirit.