Death of a Friend

Sometimes when I think of Christ dying on the cross, I feel removed from it. God came to earth some two thousand years ago because He loved us, suffered horrifically for my sake... my brain goes through the motions. I sing the songs, I nod my head... I know the message, I've heard it since I was a baby. But truly understanding what an amazing gift the cross was, that takes effort.

Even watching movies don't help. I cry just thinking about the whipping, the pain, the shame that the man Jesus went through. No person should have to go through that. But then again, I cry when a cat gets hit by a car, though I know that it's not the same thing.

Then I think about losing a loved one... what would it be like to lose a spouse, a parent, a child, a best friend? I don't really know, I haven't yet experienced that in my young life. But I can imagine the loss. And I can imagine, what if a loved one died in my place? What if there was some extraordinary circumstance in which I was suppose to die, but my father, or my husband, or my son, volunteered to die in my stead? What if my sister, or my mother was punished because I lied, or got angry, or cheated?

Now my heartbeat quickens. My breath grows more shallow. But the tears don't come... not yet. I'm still in disbelief, in awe of the thought that someone I love would give himself or herself up so that I could live. I picture my best friend on a cross, naked, suffering, dying for no reason other than to love me... then the tears come.

And then my heart truly comprehends what happened two thousand years ago, when the Son of God chose to die on a cross for me. Good Friday is not about a moment in history; it is about the death of a friend.