Too few Protestants experience Good Friday for what it is. The blend of mourning and magnification of Jesus Christ, the “man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief,” doesn’t fit with the modern Western church’s passion for its own comfort. I sense that dark love in myself, and for myself. How different is my casual happiness from the abiding joy the events of this day promises!
An Orthodox friend of mine took this week off to participate in all his church’s daily services; their commemoration of Jesus’ last week surpasses anything most Protestants can imagine. Though considerably less involved, we spent four years in the Anglican tradition, where Holy Week carries weight enough to pull you into its orbit. I spent the last two years as far from that gravity as you can imagine. Until tonight, I didn’t realize how much I was missing.
Apparently I’m not the only one missing it. As I drove to our PCA church tonight, nearly every church’s parking lot was empty, its doors and windows dark. Without Good Friday, can we really be prepared for Resurrection Sunday? I thought of one of the Communion prayers from the Book of Common Prayer:
Most merciful Lord,
your love compels us to come in.
Our hands were unclean, our hearts were unprepared;
we were not fit even to eat the crumbs from under your table.
But you, Lord, are the God of our salvation,
and share your bread with sinners.
So cleanse and feed us with the precious body and blood of your Son,
that he may live in us and we in him;
and that we, with the whole company of Christ,
may sit and eat in your kingdom. Amen.
As I entered the sanctuary, I realized with some trepidation that my heart was unprepared to receive the body and blood of Christ. Today of all days, I should think of that. Our gathering on Good Friday commemorates the real act, Jesus’ satisfaction of God’s justice by sacrificing Himself, which our Communion remembers. He offered His body and blood in fulness for those God calls to salvation.
As the service progressed, my sense of my own sin and the grace that welcomes me to God’s table, grew. I felt overwhelmed (though not with emotion). The mixture of Scripture and song and prayer led me into the presence of God, from the Scriptures you’d expect to hymns I love but haven’t heard in a while (Hallelujah! What a Savior).
How is that I have laid aside the darkness of Good Friday–and darker still, Holy Saturday–forgetting that their mournful goodness makes possible the bright sunrise of Resurrection Sunday? For me this year’s will be brighter than ever.
**An interesting side note, given my earlier post on Luther’s quote, is that our sons sat with us in the service for the first time ever. They are 4 and almost 2. Somehow, we made it through the service without incident. It made me realize how important it is for families to worship together, for children to participate in the church’s worship outside the activity-oriented children’s classes.
Derek | 11-Apr-07 at 3:15 pm | Permalink
Your sons were great and it was a joy to see them in the service.
I thought it was the last hymn that we sang, not sure; however, Charles said it was an Isaac Watts hymn. I don’t remember the title. It set forth the idea that if we are not overcome with our need for a savior and the gravity of our sin, then we have not estimated correctly.
If I weren’t so lazy, I would dig out the order of service and type out the lines. Do you remember it? At the very least, I began to understand that I am woefully short on my own estimation.