This poem was inspired by Mirriam Neal's words last night:
In that moment, I would not have called that day, “Good”.
But not “Good”.
No... Not “Good.”
As His mother sobbed
As her precious son was hung to die -
As the women wept
And others watched in silence -
As He hung there, bloodied and beaten,
And some in the crowd mocked Him...
I could see no good in that day.
For in those moments all I saw
All I could see was the man who'd healed the sick,
Loved the outcasts
And brought us hope,
Gasping for breath, crying out for a drink,
And slowly dying.
All I saw was misery.
Looking back now -
Knowing what I know of the empty tomb,
The joyful reunions,
The Risen Savior -
I can truly call it, “Good”.
But isn't it so much more than that?
It was more than “Good”.
It was Holy.
Holy in an earth-shaking,
Holy in an awe filling,
Holy in a life-changing,
Death defying way.
As the Father turned His back on His Son -
And for the first time in eternity They were separated.
As He cried out, “My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me?”
As the angels stood and watched the God of Heaven
As He cried out, “It is finished!” and died.
Oh so Good... Oh so Holy.
Friday is called
“Good”, because Justice met with Mercy
And was satisfied...
My debt was paid in blood...
It is because of Grace that I quietly acknowledge,
Today is more than merely a “Good Friday”.
Today is the day my filth was wrapped in a strong embrace -
Today is the day He named me His child, set apart from eternity.
He exchanged my rags for a robe,
And my freedom was won for me...
Oh yes -
I can say today is blessedly Good –
And so much more than that.
Today is the day He gave me His Life
So I could Live.
It is Good.
~Ophelia - Marie Flowers