As Jesus stood before him, the Pilate said, “What do I do with this man whom you called the King of the Jews?” I shouted, “Crucify him! He is not my king.” But what evil has he done, asked the Pilate. But I shouted louder, “Crucify him, crucify him”.
So, Jesus was taken away by the soldiers, striped and whipped.
Later, they brought him back wrapped in shabby purple robe wearing a crown of thorns and holding a reed in his right hand. As the soldiers spat on him and mocked him, I joined them saying “Hail, King of the Jews.”
But in that dress, shape and condition, Jesus looked like no king to me. So, I laughed and mocked him with the others there and shouted at the top of my voice, “Crucify him, crucify him.”
As they laid the cross on him and the journey to the place of the skull (Calvary) began, I joined the crowd in jeering, spitting, cursing and kicking him. I even laughed and cursed those women from Jerusalem who wept for him, especially Veronica as she wiped Jesus’ face; I thought Simone of Cyrene must be a crazy man to help Jesus carry the cross. After all, Jesus was a ‘sinner’ who should be put to death and that too, on a cross, a symbol of shame.
Upon reaching Ca
lvary (Golgatha or the place of the skull), the soldiers stripped Jesus, blood oozing from his wounds, laid him on the cross and nailed him to it. As every nail was hammered and driven through his weak and tortured flesh, Jesus cried in pain and agony. But I told myself, he deserves it for the sins and the blasphemy that he has committed, and that he deserves to die in such a painful and shameful way.
And as Jesus hung on the cross for three agonizing hours crying out to God his father, I laughed at him and said, “Let’s see if your father comes to save you from the cross”. He longed for water to quench his thirst but I gave him vinegar instead. And at the end of the three agonizing hours, he cried out, “Father, into your hands, I commit my spirit” and breath his last. What followed were darkness and fearsome thunder.
Later, as I opened my eyes, kneeling beneath the cross in the Church, recalling the events and the suffering that Jesus had to bear for me to save me from eternal condemnation; I had no words to say to my Lord as tears filled my eyes.
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” Jesus had said as he hung on the cross, praying to his Father to forgive my sins that I may be saved from getting burnt in the eternal fire of hell, that I may rather enjoy the eternal happiness promised for me by my Father in heaven.
‘Good Friday’ was the day my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ set his blood and gave his life to save me. ‘No greater love a man can have for his friend than to lay down his life’, he had said and showed me how much he loved me.
‘Good Friday’ is the reason why I can proudly say I am a loving son of the Father in heaven and that I have been saved from eternal punishment. It is the reason why I am alive today in Him, and He in me; it is the reason why I have no fear of tomorrow or of the eternal fire of hell because Jesus has spilt his blood and saved me from all.
Because of Good Friday I can proudly say that my God loves me and that He will not abandon me. Good Friday was the day I was saved.
