My reflection from the 7:30 pm worship for Good Friday (April 18, 2025) on Luke 22:14—23:56.
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I want to take a second before we head into the final part of Luke’s version of the passion of Christ, to not try and make this moment understandable. Before we reach back into all the sermons we’ve heard, the books we’ve read, and the youtube videos we’ve watched wondering what makes this Friday good – we can first bear witness to the strangeness of it. We can sit with everything that was said, with everything that was done, while imagining all the sounds, the feelings, and even the smells. We can stand alongside Peter while he pretends to be something he’s not and we can be honest that shouting “crucify him” isn’t something only other people would say. The harsh sun, the burning torches, the crack of the whip, and the sound of the Cross digging into the earth as it was dragged on the ground – there’s a lot of life happening in this very heart-rending story. Our explanations can often be so stuck in the clouds they forget that real people filled with real emotions were walking through this story not sure what might come next. Letting the passion of Jesus’ life be a real moment of life is one of the ways we discover who our God chooses to be. And if the maker of the universe is willing to feel sweat streaming down the forehead and the voices of those who assume they knew what God was always up to – then maybe – just maybe – there’s something meaningful about the life we get to live too.
Now a part of what it means to live this life is choosing just how much integrity will be a part of it. We can miss seeing that integrity in Jesus’ own story if we focus too much on what made Jesus different and unique. The story of Christmas, the miracles, the healings, and Easter Sunday can reduce Jesus to being a kind of game piece or secret code following a rather abstract set of instructions. Yet this Jesus who could calm storms with a word, was also a Jesus who knew what it was like to say “that’s not fair” when playing with his siblings. Jesus had been bullied and cherished, valued and pushed aside. He woke up early to watch the sunrise and embraced the cosmic silence that comes in the evening when each star twinkles into view. The Jesus who went to the Cross was also the Jesus who knew how full living life is meant to be. And while the Son of God could have gone on this journey alone, he formed relationships with those who never truly understood what he was supposed to be. Jesus didn’t go through the motions of a plan in an abstract way that ignored what he was a part of. Instead, he lived – and showed us what it means to be truly present in a world God truly loves. The kingdom of God would never be limited by what we assume such a kingdom might be. And while everyone – including his disciples – surrounded him with betrayal, denial, mockery, and cruelty – Jesus showed what integrity looks like by never giving up on those who often give up on themselves.
There are glimpses, though, that Jesus’ relationships bore fruit, grounding the integrity of others in big and small ways. We’ll hear about the women who had followed Jesus from the beginning and provided for his ministry – keeping watch from the distance. Their time with Jesus must have provided them a sense of purpose and hope as they participated in what God was up to. And yet, when Jesus was caught up in a moment where everything just kept happening to him, the power these women felt was reduced to powerlessness. As they watched, they did their best to come up with some explanation that made sense and might change what they could see was about to come. But none of their words were big enough to hold everything Jesus – and they – were going through. In that moment, the only thing they could do was simply be. Their witness seemed to be the only thing that remained true once the sun started to darken and all the religious officials, world leaders, and military officers returned to what they believed the world was meant to be. Yet in the silence will emerge someone else with the integrity to simply do what they can. He doesn’t try to explain away the Cross or act as if Jesus’ death wasn’t really the end of his life. Joseph of Arimathea, instead, simply chose to keep living and became the burial process. His integrity towards living became an invitation for those from far away to maybe get closer and see where their friend, their teacher, the one who refused to give up on them – was going to be laid. And while they could have let Jesus’ death be the end of the story, they chose instead to live through the Sabbath and see what the next morning might bring.