This week I attended our church's Good Friday service. This is one of my husband's favorite services of the year. But I have to admit, it wasn't always mine. The sanctuary lights are dimmed, the choir wears black pants and tops, the music is somber, and the scripture deals with less than pleasant circumstances. Images projected onto our video screen are, at times, painful to watch. At the end of the service we are asked to leave silently. No visiting with our neighbors and friends as we walk toward the doors--one of the rewards of a regular service!
As I thought about that dark, sober service, though, I reflected upon what Christ went through on that Friday. I thought about it Saturday, too, as I wondered about the events long ago, when He was placed in the tomb. I finally accepted that it was right to have a somber service on Friday, and experiencing it was a small way to help me understand what He endured that day.
Today when I walked into church, the mood was different. The colors seemed brighter, the music jubilant, the flowers sweeter. And the message--the message was all the more miraculous, after going through the darkness of Good Friday.