Good, Good Friday

Police brutality.
A corrupt justice system.
A guilty verdict motivated by jealousy.
And a judge more worried about his popularity than justice.

Vicious beatings, not once but several times.
Blindfolded and then struck.
Spit upon.
Tortured by the highest authority in the land.

And the protestors agreed with all of it.
In fact, they encouraged it
They hated the government – but they hated the criminal more.
So they screamed for the death sentence.

And it was handed down.

The beginning of “Good Friday”.
But by the end of the day, it was good.
Truly good.
Not for Jesus.
He felt shame for the first time ever.
Never before had he done anything deserving shame.

But now he bore on himself the shame – and the choices – of the Nazi guard who tortured and killed many Jews.
And the rapist.
The child molester.
And the liar.
The racist.
And the member of the lynch mob.
The man who cheats on his wife.
And the woman who lusts after her coworker.
The drunk driver who used his car as a lethal weapon.
And the woman who did the same because she was texting.

When they chose to believe that He died for them, He did.
And He took every sin upon Himself.
The wrath of God poured out on Him in their place.

In my place.
I stand before God, clean.
With a “not guilty” verdict.
Not because I have never sinned.
Or because my good choices outweigh my bad.
But only because Jesus says, “Dad, she accepted the gift we offered. I took her place. She is not condemned because I was. She’s with Me.”

For me, it was a good, good Friday.
Was it for you?

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