Tonight we went to the Good Friday service at church. Some thoughts:
One of the elders, discussing Christ's cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" mentioned that nowhere else in the account of the Passion does Christ cry out. He does not respond to the charges against Him. He does not--as far as we know--cry out at the physical abuse: the whip, the thorns, the nails, the spear. He does not reply to the mockery. He does not respond to anything, until the full wrath of God--the wrath that met justice's demands for our sin--weighs upon Him. In short, the unimaginable suffering cannot do what my sin accomplishes in a moment.
It is appropriate, if perhaps cliche, to offer George Herbert's Easter Wings for your perusal this weekend. The formatting may be lost, for which I apologize. Be blessed in the grace that is ours by the mercy of God.
Lord, Who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
O let me rise,
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day Thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did beginne;
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Let me combine,
And feel this day Thy victorie;
For, if I imp my wing on Thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.