You Are the Good in Good Friday

Welcome back to the Dove Chronicles! I've not written in a long time as family, illness, and life have made things very busy. I gave much thought to something I wrote this morning reflecting on my favorite time of year - Holy Week: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter (with that odd, waiting-for-hope Saturday in between). I decided to resurrect my old faith blog during Resurrection weekend. Appropriate, yes? 

Before I share that piece of writing, let's revisit the meaning of Good Friday. 

I love Good Friday for so many reasons. 

1. Everyone I know asks, "why is it called Good Friday?" My kids ask this, friends who don't know the Lord ask this, and I love answering it because I gain a bit more insight each year. It is now just over five years of me being a Christian, but I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I will share what I have come to understand. I tell people that this Friday is "good" because God's definition of "good" is so very different than ours. For example, I have been diagnosed with a horrible chronic illness that causes a great amount of suffering - for and my family. However, I do think this is being used for my "good" by the God who can turn ashes into beauty and joy out of suffering. Whether I let Him use it for my good is up to me. I also tell people that it is called "Good" Friday because though it seemed like an awful day for Jesus, to put it mildly, think about it: Jesus knew this was coming. And the Apostle Paul says, we must fix

our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

 Hebrews 12:2

With joy, Jesus endured the cross. The joy was not the beating, lashing, or mocking. We were that joy. We are that joy. The shame He despised was not "good." But the result of this sacrifice is certainly "good" for us. Because of Jesus, we can walk in freedom and be connected to God in a way that was impossible before. That certainly is good news! 

So that's the Good about Good Friday. 

While we think hanging on a cross in a violent death is definitely not "good," Jesus decided we were worth it. 

He decided you were worth it. Not because of what you did or didn't do, but because you are His. With all your flaws and warts, with all your rebelliousness and doubt, He decided YOU were worth dying for. 

I'd say that is very good news. 

And the day came... my first video log...

I never thought I'd be interested in recording myself and my thoughts, much less my singing...

But on Holy Saturday, the day before Easter, I found myself prompted by the Spirit to record, first, the song He put in my heart.

And what followed were a few more videos of both song and reflection.

So with nervous fingers, I upload this video log, oddly called a vlog (and you thought the term "blog" was odd?) for your enjoyment.

I pray that you receive its genuineness.

*********
Many thanks to my husband who, by his own accord, edited my badly-lit videos and tinkered with it in his cool professional videography software. Not all my videos will be this sharp, but I am so thankful to him for his kindness and love and support of my creative pursuits. xoxoxo

The Waiting Game

It's Saturday, the day of waiting. Are you observing it?

I went to my church for my prayer vigil that I signed up for and I entered expecting to find the sanctuary how we had left it Friday night: black cloth draped over the cross where a crown of thorns laid around the vertical plank of wood. Black cloth draped over the altar and podium, all reminders to us of Jesus' earthly death. I expected to sit in the front pew and look upon this blackness and meditate on what it all meant - for me, for the world.

To my surprise, however, I entered the sanctuary and color exploded into my vision. There were lilies and all sorts of flowers all over the place! There were new cloths laid out: white, brightly and maternally-hand-stitched cloths.

Part of me felt disappointed that my first view of this celebration wasn't on the actual Easter morning, but how wonderful to walk into that quiet sanctuary, to be solitary and prayerful, and be greeted by such beauty. I knelt down at the front and gazed at the flowers. I looked at the candles and realized they weren't lit. That means something, I noted to myself. Perhaps the Light of Christ will be lit, to me, only on Easter morning. Right now, the flowers were displayed, but the candles were not lit.

Still the time of waiting.

And now, a word about our Good Friday service. It was so remarkable and full of awe and mystery.

The altar was stripped, Pastor and his wife dressed in black. We first sang, "Ah, Holy Jesus," which was a familiar hymn to me which I sang with much passion.



In that hymn, the line, "I crucified thee," hit me hard in the chest.

After the Old Testament reading, we sang "Beneath the Cross of Jesus:"



Then came the Nails of Passion. This was a new part of the Good Friday service to me. By the way, this service was a Good Friday Tenebrae (Darkness) Service. 

First - Nail of Betrayal. Verses from the Book of Matthew were read telling of Judas' betrayal and then a prayer said. Then two candles were extinguished and a nail driven into a piece of wood. The sound of the hammer against the nail was a harsh reminder of the truth and reality of two thousand years ago.

Second - The Nail of Denial. Again, Matthew verses were read, telling of Peter's denial. Again, two candles snuffed out and three hits the nail.

7 year old huddled close, knowing what was to happen (we had talked to the 12 and 7 year old earlier - the 4 year old was being babysat). I held her close as the nails drove into my mind.

Then we sang "O Sacred Head, Now Wounded:"



Third - The Nail of Jealousy
Matthew read, candles extinguished, nail driven.

Fourth - The Nail of Indifference
Told of Pontius Pilate's indifference toward Jesus. Candles out, nail driven.

Five - The Nail of Mockery
The crowds yelled and shouted, mocking Jesus. Candles out, nail driven. Lights are going out now, the room gets darker.

Six - The Nail of Ridicule
Scornful words said. Darkness. Final nail driven.

We sang the beautiful song, "Were You There," which has become a definite favorite of mine.


And 7 year old started recognizing the song a little and sang the part, "tremble....tremble...tremble"and hearing her little voice sing just broke my heart and lifted it right up into the heavens. Oh, my girl. My God-loving, God-asking, God-praying girl.

Then Pastor Matt and his wife each took turns reading Jesus' last words.

Pastor read, in a heart-wrenching voice, Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani? (Father, Father, why have you forsaken me?)
Tears fell. Heart opened. Wounds opened. I saw my wounds on his body.

Bells tolled.

The Christ candle was removed.

And we said the Lord's Prayer in darkness as rain poured heavy on the roof and left in silence.

Why is Good Friday called "Good?" We all asked this in the car on the way home.

On this Saturday, I wish you a Happy Holy Saturday, day of waiting, day of wondering and hoping.

We know now that Jesus rose again. Keep that hope strong throughout your life. He would want you to.


***********************
A repost from the archives. 

The Paradox of the Season

Husband's birthday is today - on Good Friday.

It's been interesting, this paradox. Celebrating the man I love's birthday on the day I remember Christ dying.

Last night, at the end of the Maundy Thursday service, they ceremoniously stripped the altar as Pastor sang, in the same haunting melody as Ash Wednesday's Psalm 51, Psalm 22. And the ladies in prim and beautiful dresses, white gloves on their hands especially for this, took the candles, the cup and plate we had just used for the Lord's Supper, the altar cloths - they took everything off as the sanctuary lights turned off.  A firm lump rose in my throat and tears rolled down.

It has now begun, I felt deep in my bones. We enter the space of suffering and sadness and the why's and how-did-this-happen's. We hear Jesus' words, "Remember me" and as Good Friday fades to evening we think about him beseeching his Father, "My God, why have You forsaken me?"

Yesterday as I stood around the enormous cross which stands on a neighbor's land here in town, hand-in-hand with other believers wanting to usher God into the moment, wanting to thank God for the gift of His Son, wanting to pray for the church and everyone on this earth, I looked up as the sun shone on the stained wood, the two nails holding the pieces together - large nails - and I realized I had never been this close to such a cross. I could feel its pulse. I could feel its story of the Cross long ago.

The Pastor who led the prayer mentioned something that threw me for a headspin. He said that no one has ever or will ever suffer as much as Jesus did on that cross. Things certainly fell into perspective.

I love Good Friday because it gives me time to truly reflect on all Christ has done for me.

If I had it my way I'd have the entire day to just sit in the sun and read God's Word and journal and sing.

As it turns out, God had different plans for me this Good Friday.

I tried to make Husband's Good Friday Birthday an enjoyable one. I managed to handle the squabbles between 9 yr old Miss G and 6 yr old Mr. A. - they are getting at each other's throats more and more. I did not yell at all; I chose grace over anger.

Husband came home to presents and streamers. We had a good time.

Then the kids went off in different directions and I sat down to blog.

And in that time, while Husband takes a much-deserved nap, Miss G and Mr. A have come in three times declaring war and tattling on each other.

I have handled it all, so far, without yelling.

Then Miss G, who is ripening in opinions and attitude, announces that she can't help but hit her brother; she just gets so mad that she can't control it.

Oh, we've been through this before, child. I've been teaching you an emotional vocabulary since I met you at age four and a half. I gave you that Dora squeezie ball back then to hold when anger filled you to the brim and then we transitioned to a feelings poster and now, here we are in present day, with me asking you about your day and you releasing emotion after emotion.

So how did we get to today - how, apparently, it is okay for you to wallop your brother because you can't control it and oh, I just don't understand it and you just can't explain it, and you spin around in a huff and scream at me.

My heart pierces and I feel a sharp ache. I'm losing my little girl.

I calmly tell her that she has every ability to control her anger. She knows this. But she will not believe it. She sees her sister making excuses and falling into the victim time and time again and I worry for all of them, all of these kids who have seen such trauma and such suffering and I wonder if I can ever lead them to Jesus which makes me think

maybe Jesus needs to lead them to Jesus. 

I tell Miss G that I love her and I know she knows, though it's hard, she can choose not to hit or fight.

And I leave her room because I can see it is getting to be information-overload and I close the door behind her, feeling her seething anger, hearing the bursts of tears beginning.

And I can't do much but pray.

I want this Good Friday to be good.

I want our family to love each other and for us to get along.

Can't they see that?

Don't they know what this day means? What Christ did for them?

There is grace for them, I hear in my head. And I call you to show them such grace.

Oh God, it is so hard. I want to yell instead of love. I want to cry instead of pray.

But it is in my control, isn't it. Praying instead of crying. Loving instead of yelling. Just like she can choose not to hit I can choose not to sink into despair.

Hold me up, Lord. I've been pondering how we can hold you up on the cross; I think, secretly, I've been wondering if there could have been anything we could have done to save you from such suffering.

But I remember you are God-Man and you chose this, you knew this would happen. It is written...

You have not asked me to save you, Lord. Do I really think that? Is that why Good Friday pierces me so much this year? How mistaken I am.

You have called me to serve others. You've called me to serve these children. And I try, Lord, I try.

So what if it is about the paradox? A birthday on Christ's death day. Teaching her not to yell when I want to scream in despair. Running to you and proclaiming my need of you the day when you were nailed to the worst death imaginable.

This season is all paradox, upside-down. Then again, so is the Kingdom of God.

We are called to love the least of us; taught that you loved us when we were yet sinners; picked up time and time again if we just call out to you.

The paradox of this season is not lost on me.

The hard which can hurt can be the biggest blessing.

But the blessing might not come right away.

Miss G won't walk out of her room and tell me, "I get it now. Thank you so much for explaining it. I understand and I love you so much for leading me to the Lord."

Mr. A won't open his door with a big smile and say, "whining and tattling is so beyond me."

Miss A, the eldest, won't walk upstairs and hug me with tears, thanking me for loving her despite her hating me.

The hard which can hurt and then turn blessing-like might come years later - or even wait until eternity in Heaven.

What I know, Lord, is that you watch us all. You promise each of us eternal life in return for giving our life to you. And for all that you've done - in life and in death - how you conquered death - how you gave us hope in the darkest hours - after all that you've done, I'm going to take your paradox and hold it in my hand, drink from it like a pool of living water, and keep on moving through this life.

Once again, I seem to be living this stuff out so much more than in years past. It gets harder, but I know, because of you, Lord, I grow stronger.

When You Need it To Be Well

It is Well With My Soul

written by Horatio G. Spafford, 1873

music by Phillip P. Bliss, 1876

When peace like a river attendeth my way

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, with my soul,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:

If Jordan above me shall roll,

No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life

Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But, Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,

The sky, not the grave, is our goal;

Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!

Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul. 

*   *   *   *   *

The Lord has spoken to me through a new song. For the longest time, the verse and various versions in song of "Be Still and Know I Am God" followed me around like a parent's gentle, yet insistent, nudge. I pondered the verse, sang the songs, even wrote my own song to the verse...it consumed me. 

Now God has put the hymn, "It Is Well with My Soul," on my heart and I am turning my attention to it and what God wants it to mean to me - and possibly to you. 

The story behind the song is miraculous in itself. The maker of this video on youtube does a beautiful job of explaining it. 

When I read the story in my comforting, soft-leather-bound book, "Then Sings My Soul" by Robert J. Morgan, this evening, my eyes filled with tears. What tragedy befell that man and look what he wrote. 

"Saved alone," his wife cabled to him after his four daughters had perished in a shipwreck. "What shall I do?"

There are so many things Horatio Spafford could have done. Can you imagine? He could have torn his hair out and grieved so deeply that he gave up on life completely. He had lost his only son at the age of 4 and now, years later, he had lost his 4 daughters. All of his children, gone. His wife, a rare survivor of the shipwreck, on the other side of the Atlantic asking him, "what shall I do?"

"Horatio Spafford immediately booked passage to join his wife. En route, on a cold December night, the captain called him aside and said, 'I believe we are now passing over the place where the Ville da Havre went down.' Spafford went to his cabin but found it hard to sleep. He said to himself, 'It is well; the will of God be done.' He later wrote his famous hymn based on those words."

 ~ from "Then Sings My Soul" by Robert J. Morgan.

And then, as the video on youtube tells us, Haratio Spafford and his wife went on to spread the Gospel in Jerusalem to Jews and Muslims. This was in the late 1800s. Amazing. 

The way I feel tonight - it is so not  well in my soul. 

I thought about what that phrase means and I narrowed it down to this: 

It is well with my soul = I am content trusting God completely with my past, present, and future. 

It is well with my soul means that I cannot try to control my circumstances or people in my life. 

It is well with my soul means that I cannot impose my own will on other people. 

It is well with my soul means ...

that I must be still and know He is God. 

Oh, God, how circular this all is! It's like a dance of verses and song and whispers from You during these dark, sad nights...

It is so often not well with my soul, but then again...I'm one of the people who needs to sing those words the most - and believe them. 

My soul can only become well through trusting by faith. 

So although what I see is pain right now

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,"

I must believe that God is working behind the scenes on what is unseen

"but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary and what is unseen is eternal."

~ 2 Corinthians 4:18

because God promises me an eternal future and I know, I know deep deep down...

when I fix my eyes on Him

all is well. 

And sometimes that is all you need. 

What Lent Taught Me Over Easter Vacation

I openly blubber around Lent. I don't just blubber about anything, I get highly emotional when it comes to the suffering Jesus endured and chose to endure in order to save us all.

I think Lent is one of the few, if not the only, time where it is "acceptable" for me to feel like I can blubber at church. It seems appropriate at funerals, but I've found that when I get choked up at Lent mid-week services, especially Good Friday's service, I don't find myself trying to swallow the tears. I let them fall. I don't seem to be...ashamed.

So do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner. Rather, join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God."

~ 2 Timothy 1:8

In fact, as Holy Week begins, I find myself reflecting more and more on the sacrifice Jesus made to save us sinners. Today, two days before Maundy Thursday, the evening Jesus and disciples shared the Last Supper, I feel my grief increasing and my heartache swelling. And before our family goes to the Good Friday service, I'm going to tell our children that I will be openly crying and to not be afraid or worry about me. They know me as highly emotional anyway, but I am going to say that I am not ashamed of the passion and sadness I feel over what Christ has done for us.

Your stepmama is gonna sob, kids. That's just the truth.

And yet..things happen in life, tragedies strike, and I scurry to a private room to shed tears. Someone hurts my heart and I swallow the pain until I can release it in the car on the way to work. Always private, always alone. Why the shame?

It is unfathomable to imagine what agony Christ suffered for us all - we who are foolish, prideful, selfish, and ungrateful. For me, Lent is a time to reflect on Christ's journey to the cross and to witness His hunched-over, burdened walk to Calvary.

But it's easy to get caught up in the horror of what happened. I find myself wanting to fall to my knees in agony and just stay there, devastated, begging His forgiveness. But Lent is about more than falling down and remaining prostrate out of guilt. It has to be.

So perhaps Lent can teach us about Life.

Perhaps Lent allows us to boldly grieve and then experience the Truth that followed the Tragedy

which is the Resurrection.

Following the horrible, beautiful Good Friday (and then the waiting-in-the-middle-Saturday) came Easter Sunday, the day of resurrection, new life, our salvation, His grace. And in Life, perhaps we are to boldly claim our emotions...

yet know that there, too, can be a resurrection.

Amdist the sadness of  Lent there is Easter, so in Life and Life's own pain, there, too, is, redemption, resurrection, new life, salvation, and grace. So what if Lent, besides asking us to remember Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, is a call to be brave about our human feelings?

It takes courage to feel the hard stuff. I teach my kids that all the time. I'm working on that, in particular, with my middle stepchild now. Just because it's hard doesn't mean it's bad or that you ought to give up. It will grow and mold you into someone better.

Lent teaches me to boldly feel my pain, not be ashamed, and to carry that out in my daily life. To not hide behind a mask of Okayness and Holding It Together for the sake of looks. There is a time and a place for everything, When I think how Lent teaches us to hope in the face of death, I think God teaches us to hope amidst the pain of Life - and that hope is in Jesus.

So whether you are a blubberer like me or whether you prefer to observe and reflect in a more subtle way (either is fine), there is grace and healing for you.

All the joy and happiness found in Jesus' resurrection can be found by those who believe Jesus can resurrect them as well.

Resurrection requires a death. In our case, it is a death to the self and a surrendering to God.

We can have Easter every day.

"But in our time something new has been added. What Moses and the prophets witnessed to all those years has happened. The God-setting-things-right that we read about has become Jesus-setting-things-right for us. And not only for us, but for everyone who believes in him. For there is no difference between us and them in this. Since we’ve compiled this long and sorry record as sinners (both us and them) and proved that we are utterly incapable of living the glorious lives God wills for us, God did it for us. Out of sheer generosity he put us in right standing with himself. A pure gift. He got us out of the mess we’re in and restored us to where he always wanted us to be. And he did it by means of Jesus Christ."

~ Romans 3:21-24 (The Message)

I Will Stay Awake

Good Friday started with me opening my eyes to sunshine streaming in my bedroom. Ah, a day off. I normally wake up at 5:45am in darkness. I laid in bed for a few minutes, relaxing, still sleepy.

Then I realized what day it was. It was my second favorite holy day of the Church calendar: Good Friday. Why do I love it so much? It is solemn, desperately sad…yet if that is all we see of Good Friday, we fail to see the “Good” part.

I love Good Friday because it makes me look in the mirror and admit exactly what Jesus did for me. We are, you are, I am the reason Jesus went to the cross and soaked up all our sins like a sponge. His love so deep, his compassion so strong.

As I’ve been going about my day I’ve been meditating on something I thought of yesterday:

I was talking aloud to God in the car and I said, Jesus, let me feel Your presence tonight. Help me to feel You with me.

And I paused and then said, and I pray that You feel me, too.

I stopped in my tracks. 

Huh? Do we pray for Jesus to feel our presence? 

Do we ask God to feel us? Is that a conceited or silly thing to pray? I really had to think about this.

I certainly am not God. I know there aren’t people praying to me, “Oh, I pray for your presence.” Why would I expect God to say to me, “Oh thank you, child of mine, for praying that I might feel you.”

But that’s not how I meant it. Plus, I don’t think God is that haughty.

I always ask God to be with me. I felt bad yesterday because isn’t God always with us?

Immanuel = God With Us.

I wanted Jesus to know that I was with him.

In Scripture, where Jesus asks his main disciples to stay awake with him in the garden of Gethsemane, it breaks my heart to know they didn’t. I realize, sadly, that I could have made that very mistake.

Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Simon,” he said to Peter, “are you asleep? Could you not keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”
-Mark 14:37-38 (NIV)

And so I say, Jesus, I know I did not stay awake for you.

In other words, I know I sinned.

I want to devote my life to you. Please know I will stay with you. I will follow you. I will believe you.

And so, on this Good Friday, as the crowds surrounded him hung high on the cross, as some mocked and jeered, some cried and wailed, today I am standing there with the believers, with those who know who Jesus is and who we are in His presence.

I believe in you, Lord. Thank you for dying for us.

I pray that you feel me, I who have sinned and will sin again. I pray that you know I will not fall asleep. I will remain awake and vigilant. I pray that, just as I feel and know your love, that you feel and know mine.