Today I accidentally used the term “Black Friday” in place of Good Friday. It was a silly, mindless mis-speak, but it was one that made me pause and wonder why we call Good Friday, the death of our Lord, “good.”
It seems more apt to call it Black Friday. (However I would not suggest switching the names, since the actual Black Friday is a fairly accurate depiction of sin incarnate, and therefore apt.)
It’s Holy Week, the home stretch of my Lenten fast and I must confess: I don’t feel particularly focused on Easter. My heart is heavy with stress and burden and fear and looking for rest somewhere. Anywhere.
How is your suffering good, Lord?
And then I remember his words on that day: “It is finished.”
Before he resurrected. Before the empty tomb, it was finished.
“Into your hands I commit my spirit.”
And we can all say the same now. We can commit our spirits into His hands. We can find our rest in that, even before we have found our resolution. Even before the happy ending. When our hearts are heavy, breath labored, and backs bending under the burdens we carry, it is already finished.
Before it’s over. . . it is finished.
And if in my suffering my spirit is committed to Him, then yes, it is good.
Sometimes the most effective way to beat back the darkness isn’t by kicking and flailing and fighting, but by accepting the cup and resting your spirit in His hands. That’s what Christ modeled for us. That is the love we rest in. That is the good in Good Friday.