I hang my coat in the vestibule, shake hands with the church greeter and head to my usual pew. The cross has been draped with a black swag…I am reminded again that this service is the saddest in the year. Earlier I had noticed the church bulletin board had been completely covered with a black cloth. Tacked to it was a crown of thorns.
I wonder sometimes why we call it “Good” Friday and why we say “Good-bye. There is little about Good Friday that was good and very seldom little good in goodbyes.
How different the bulletin board was the week prior. A creative person had a three dimensional Jesus sitting on a colt…palm branches spread out on the road ahead and tiny, different coloured coats were strewn along his pathway. It was a picture of triumph and you could almost hear the children’s voices singing “Hosanna!”
Five days earlier it had been a picture to delight the eye …now it was a scene of impending death. For Jesus things had changed so swiftly. This was no story book movie, this was real life. It mimics what our also happens so often in our own lives. One minute all is well and the next life has taken an abrupt turn.
My mind slips back to the shock of my husband’s heart attack at fifty-six. One minute he was raising his glass in a Christmas toast and the next he was filled with pain.
I almost lost him, but by the grace of God and modern medicine he had another seventeen years with me.
“Beneath the cross of Jesus”, I sing. But only the first verse…after that the words choke off and my eyes fill with tears. Music and words…both catching and wringing out my heart.
I wipe a tear that has slid down my cheek. I reach for a tissue. The benediction is next and I am composed enough to join in. The hymns, scripture and message have truly touched me this morning. Later, I shake the Minister’s hand and head out to the coffee room.
Two of the church ladies have spent time yesterday, baking hot-cross buns. Along with a variety of jams, jellies and marmalades, they are spread across a white table cloth. It is what I need right now…food and fellowship. Within a half hour the table is nearly bare and the coffee urn nearly empty. The room is filled with spring sunshine which lifts our spirits. We have mourned but not without hope for we will be back in 48 hours, singing and praising God as we do each Sunday.
And that morning, I will say to a special church friend I have had for nearly 50 years…”Christ is Risen”…and her reply as always will be “Hallelujah!”
And our hearts will be filled with thanks to God and love for each other and for the Lord.
Photo: “Christianity-Jesus Christ Died for your Sin” by Gallen35 – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.
