Most Fridays are my favorite day of the work week - like everyone else who does the traditional 8-5 job, but even that's not normal for me. I get to the office around 6:30 every morning and try to leave no later than 6:15 every night, but there are nights like last night when I'm here until 8:20. Hey, but today is FriYay! I get a chance to go home and crash for a day or two.
But this Friday ... yes, this Friday is different.
This Friday is Good Friday. Ever wonder why they call it "Good Friday" when it was such an awful Friday? Well, it's good for us - the only Son of God suffered a horrible gut wrenching death - just so we can choose to live.
There's more to this Friday this year. Sunday, the 16th, is the anniversary of my baby sister's birth ... but she's not here. This is her first birthday celebration in heaven. I know she's celebrating - she isn't suffering anymore. She doesn't have to worry about the cancer that wracked her body, doesn't have to be concerned about her phlebitis, doesn't have to worry about her heart problems ... she is well! All is well for her. I'm so thankful she isn't suffering anymore - I wouldn't bring her back to her suffering for anything, but our loss is so great. I miss her all the time, but especially on Fridays. I always called her on my way home to share the frustrations and celebrations of the week and listen to hers. She would cackle, and I would lose it. The sound of her laugh was infectious, and oh how her eyes would sparkle when she laughed. She had gorgeous eyes! She was so crazy - always calling and leaving goofy messed up messages on my email. I kept her last message, and the memories roll down my cheeks every time I listen to it. Yeah, this Friday is different.
...but Sunday's coming! I will celebrate my risen Saviour on Sunday, and I will celebrate Deb's birthday hoping that somehow she knows how much she is missed on this side.
I cannot begin to imagine how God felt when Jesus was hoisted up on that cross. I have sons, and I wouldn't give up any of them to that death - not for anyone and certainly not for a bunch of ungrateful humans. We talk all the time about how Jesus suffered - and I'm not downplaying that - my heart almost stops when I think of the pain he endured. But what about His Father? And His Mother? Surely, Mary must have felt as though her heart would explode. Mine feels that way when I contemplate how much she must have wanted to pull Him off that cross! And His Father ... our Father! Knowing what must be done to save this often ungrateful human race, knowing that He was giving up His son to torture and ridicule and suffering and death. Surely, He wept on Friday. Surely His heart was shattered.
How, oh how can we be so ungrateful?
How can we disregard what He did for us?
How can we not believe after all that was given up for us?
But that's not the end of the story! He kept His Word ... and three days later He arose! No more suffering for Him ... or was there? ... or is there? Surely, we make Him suffer over and over again when we fail to believe; when we don't keep His commandments; when we don't share His story with the rest of the world; when we don't reflect Him.
Yes, this Friday is different, but so is this Sunday. Somehow His story is more prevalent in my mind, His sacrifice hurts me more, and His love amazes more than it ever has! I'm thankful to know that Sunday is coming, and I will celebrate Him. I will also celebrate another gift - the gift of my baby sister!
Happy Birthday, Deb!
Happy Resurrection Day!
But this Friday ... yes, this Friday is different.
This Friday is Good Friday. Ever wonder why they call it "Good Friday" when it was such an awful Friday? Well, it's good for us - the only Son of God suffered a horrible gut wrenching death - just so we can choose to live.
There's more to this Friday this year. Sunday, the 16th, is the anniversary of my baby sister's birth ... but she's not here. This is her first birthday celebration in heaven. I know she's celebrating - she isn't suffering anymore. She doesn't have to worry about the cancer that wracked her body, doesn't have to be concerned about her phlebitis, doesn't have to worry about her heart problems ... she is well! All is well for her. I'm so thankful she isn't suffering anymore - I wouldn't bring her back to her suffering for anything, but our loss is so great. I miss her all the time, but especially on Fridays. I always called her on my way home to share the frustrations and celebrations of the week and listen to hers. She would cackle, and I would lose it. The sound of her laugh was infectious, and oh how her eyes would sparkle when she laughed. She had gorgeous eyes! She was so crazy - always calling and leaving goofy messed up messages on my email. I kept her last message, and the memories roll down my cheeks every time I listen to it. Yeah, this Friday is different.
...but Sunday's coming! I will celebrate my risen Saviour on Sunday, and I will celebrate Deb's birthday hoping that somehow she knows how much she is missed on this side.
I cannot begin to imagine how God felt when Jesus was hoisted up on that cross. I have sons, and I wouldn't give up any of them to that death - not for anyone and certainly not for a bunch of ungrateful humans. We talk all the time about how Jesus suffered - and I'm not downplaying that - my heart almost stops when I think of the pain he endured. But what about His Father? And His Mother? Surely, Mary must have felt as though her heart would explode. Mine feels that way when I contemplate how much she must have wanted to pull Him off that cross! And His Father ... our Father! Knowing what must be done to save this often ungrateful human race, knowing that He was giving up His son to torture and ridicule and suffering and death. Surely, He wept on Friday. Surely His heart was shattered.
How, oh how can we be so ungrateful?
How can we disregard what He did for us?
How can we not believe after all that was given up for us?
But that's not the end of the story! He kept His Word ... and three days later He arose! No more suffering for Him ... or was there? ... or is there? Surely, we make Him suffer over and over again when we fail to believe; when we don't keep His commandments; when we don't share His story with the rest of the world; when we don't reflect Him.
Yes, this Friday is different, but so is this Sunday. Somehow His story is more prevalent in my mind, His sacrifice hurts me more, and His love amazes more than it ever has! I'm thankful to know that Sunday is coming, and I will celebrate Him. I will also celebrate another gift - the gift of my baby sister!
Happy Birthday, Deb!
Happy Resurrection Day!
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