When My Addiction and Good Friday Collide

Perhaps it's the whole world that's addicted. Maybe it's just Americans. But I know it's me. I'm addicted to a happy ending. I loath depressing stories. I can't stand movies or plays in which the actors that you've been groomed to care for end up emotionally shattered, thwarted, maimed, or dead. Who wants to waste two to three hours in order to feel depressed at the end?! Not me. I'm a sucker for the happy ending. I love to see heroes defeating the bad guys, the poor guy making it big, and the hapless guy winning the heart of the beautiful girl.

So, when my optimism collides with Good Friday, my mind instantly runs to Sunday. Resurrection! Death is defeated. Satan is on the run. Sin and the curse now have an expiration date. There is grace for this life and hope for the next. PRAISE GOD!

This has changed a little bit for me. No, not my whole personality. I'm still the guy addicted to happy endings. What's changed is my view of Good Friday. A couple of years ago, I watched The Passion on Good Friday. The movie focuses almost exclusively on the horrors of Good Friday, while giving barely a nod to Resurrection Sunday. As the credits started rolling, all those who had watched the movie with me simultaneously started discussing the happy ending. Then, as I sat there, overwhelmed, it struck me. Perhaps my excitement over the resurrection has diminished my appreciation of Good Friday.

Good Friday was good for us, not for Jesus. Jesus started celebrating Passover, a festival reminding Israel of the deliverance and mercy of God, with his disciples and friends. One of them left midway through the feast to betray him for some coin. Jesus acknowledges that the leader of the disciples will betray him before the night ends. They go to the garden and pray. Jesus agonizes over the cross that awaits him, asking the Father if there is another way. There is not. Jesus returns to find his followers overcome with sleep. Temple guards capture him in the night, betrayed by a kiss. Abandoned by his followers. Sham trial. Vicious accusations. Ridicule. Shame. Paraded from one court to another. Deprived of sleep and exhausted, Jesus is sentenced to scouring. Each lash brings indescribable pain, loss of blood, and further weaknessed. Devoid of pity or common sense, the crowd tastes blood and screams for the execution of their King and Savior. Jesus is forced to carry the cross on his lacerated back through the crowded streets teaming with gawking spectators. He is nailed to a cross. Scorned by those that surround him, Jesus asks God to forgive them. Soon after, Jesus takes his last breath. His death is confirmed by the sharp point of a Roman spear.

Two friends beg for the body of Jesus. The disciples are scattered, hiding in fear for their lives. Tears stream down the faces of women as they prepare the spices for his burial. Roman guards seal the tomb. It's the end. When the first Good Friday ended, it was dark. Very dark. Jesus enemies rejoiced for a couple of days while his followers and friends mourned.

It's been healthy for me to appreciate Good Friday a bit more. To slow down and not rush so quickly to the resurrection. To remember the penalty for my sin and rebellion. Contemplating the worst day in human history has fostered in me immense gratitude for the best day in human history, Easter. But here I go again, the hopeless addict of the happy ending.

"Jesus wants everybody happy, happy, happy and He doesn't want anybody sad!"

These are lyrics from a common kids' jingle. Any thinking believer obviously would agree that there is more to Christianity than just being happy all the time. This Easter I've begun to wonder how much this sort of kid's theology has permeated mature Christianity. The crucifixion and resurrection of Christ are rightfully the climax of the year for believers, but how do we present it? How do we think about it? I wonder if we are so eager to get to the joy of the resurrection that we unwittingly mitigate the impact of the crucifixion.

The gospel of John is largely an account of Christ's last few weeks on earth. Chapters 13 through 19 climax towards the crucifixion while only 2 chapters cover the resurrection and the events following it. Maybe it would be better to sit for a while and let the full impact of the worst day in history to really sink in. Do we really understand the betrayal of a closest friend? The reversal of popular opinion in Jerusalem? The confusion and desperation of Pilate? What about the heart of Mary being shredded as she helplessly watched the inhuman treatment of her first son? The pounding regrets Peter felt as the last moments with his friend and leader were vehement exclamations of denial? The fear and bewilderment of disciples who expected to follow Christ to a kingdom, not a cross? And what about Christ? How deeply do we feel the utter abandonment He experienced from his friends, disciples, and even His Father? His silence at the rigged trial by his countrymen? The humiliation and pain experienced at the hands of calloused soldiers? Do we understand Him being hated for His perfection and being crucified for His love? Is it even possible to understand His concern for his mother's well being and for the soul of a thief while dangling in utter agony from a tree? This was the worst day in human history. The blackest. The end. Deicide. Those in bondage killing their only Savior. It was finished!

Then came Sunday!! The cry "It is finished" now screams hope and salvation rather than desperation.

I'm not arguing for a diminishing of the resurrection. It should be everything to us (1 Corinthians 15). However, it would do us well to spend some time absorbing the darkness of John 13-19 before basking in the light of John 20-21. I believe the incomprehensible miracle of the resurrection will appear more spectacular as we absorb the darkness that brought us there. The sun is always more radiant after a spell of rain. The flowers of spring are always more beautiful after a long, cold winter.