Yet, it is.
I can't quite bear to look straight at all that it meant for Christ, the perfect sinless Son of God, to be pierced and mangled and cast into hell on my behalf. Him, tormented in hell, instead of me. A glimpse is all it takes to send me to my knees...it's hard to breathe when I think of what He's spared me.
How much more the crushing despair of the disciples? That ragtag lot who'd abandoned everything and placed their hope in this Messiah. They saw Him with their own eyes. Crushed and lifeless. Their sky turned black. They felt the earth heave beneath their feet. Terror and grief. Utter hopelessness.
We have the privilege of knowing what those grieving disciples couldn't even imagine. It might be Friday, but Sunday is coming. We know the rest of the story...there's a resurrection.
Not only is there a resurrection, but we're invited to a feast that trumps all feasts, not just as honored guests, but as the Bride herself!
To we who have fallen in repentant grief at the foot of the cross, the risen Savior has come and lifted our faces to meet His eyes. His Spirit has called us to come...to be prepared for a Wedding Feast. This unfathomable groom doesn't just call us to the feast, but also provides the dowry and makes us His Bride.
Good Friday is the invitation to the wedding. The invitation is open to everyone. Respond and receive the gift of freedom from the deadly cost of your sin. He paid the price willingly, even eagerly, so great is His longing for you.
"Come!" say the Spirit and the Bride.
Whoever hears, echo, "Come!"
Is anyone thirsty? Come!
All who will, come and drink,
Drink freely of the Water of Life!