Good Friday: A Story of Hope
Good Friday: A Story of Hope Dear God, I sit here on Good Friday thinking about how your people must have felt watching you get crucified. Did they care? Did they cry? Were they part of the crowd mocking and beating you? Throwing slander like their last name and screaming the bloody murder of yours . Yet, instead of betrayal, shame or anger, you simply looked down from the cross and said, " Father forgive them, for they know now what they are doing," and my heart is compelled to thank you for this gift. That instead of giving us the punishment we deserved, you gave us the love you so righteously lived, and we so undeservingly and selfishly took. Ironically, Father, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. this morning from a bad dream that my Dad tried to stab me with a kitchen knife, and now that I think about it, that would’ve been the time you were praying to your Father, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” and in a sense, a knife was driven into you as you asked