It has been a long night, but the pace picks up quickly. In the dark of the early morning hours, the soldiers brought Jesus before the high priest, Caiaphas. As the highest official in the Sanhedrin, he wants to accuse Jesus of blasphemy asking, "Are you the messiah?" (Matthew 26:63; Mark 14:61). He's not curious. His motive is to find cause to send him to Roman officials to be crucified. Jesus, as we have come to see in his confrontations with religious rulers, doesn't give them what they want, yet never strays from the truth. "You have said that I am," he answers.

As dawn breaks on Friday, we get a glimpse at the rapid escalation of events through the eyes of Peter (Matthew 26:58–75; Mark 14:54–72; Luke 22:54–62; John 18:15–27). The sun begins to burst off of the horizon, and we see the daybreak through the eyes of Peter. Jesus had told him that he would do the unthinkable, denying any affiliation with Jesus. Not once. Three times. As the crowds flood into the city for the day's Passover festivities, Peter fears for his life and does exactly as Jesus predicted. He denies Jesus. Not once. Three times. We see that denial as a mirror to our own shame as the pressures of the world attempt to drive a wedge between us and our Savior. After the third denial, the rooster crows, and dawn has broken. 

There is a paradox at dawn on this Good Friday. Light from the sun bursts through the skies and lights up the city, but light in the morning has a way of casting long, dark shadows. The next three hours see the light of the sun rise . . . as the True Light of the World (Jesus) sets. It's a shadowy morning, and it's just getting started.

From the courts of the Sanhedrin, Jesus is passed up the ranks to the Roman governor Pilate, then down to the local tetrarch Herod, then back up to Pilate (Luke 23:1-15). No one wants to bear the responsibility of condemning a seemingly innocent man. At a loss, Pilate decides to leave the decision to the crowds. He presents a choice to the people. One goes free. Will it be the well known criminal Barrabas or this young miracle worker who claims to be the Messiah. As the religious rulers stir the crowd to cry out for Barrabas, we notice something powerful. 

It seems like Barrabas stands where we do. Comparing our record with Jesus, there is no comparison. He is clearly the innocent one. We are not. Yet, as "Free Barrabas!" echoes through the city, we get the sense that it seems unfair that we should go free and Jesus be condemned. But we cannot deny the truth. "Crucify Him!", the crowds shout (Mark 15:6-15). The truth? He will die in our place. 

And he does. By 9am on Friday morning Jesus hangs on a cross (Matthew 27:35–44; Mark 15:24–32; Luke 23:33–43; John 19:18–27). A cross is built for brutality. He has already been stripped, beaten, spat upon, mocked with a crown of thorns digging into his head, and a sarcastic billboard with the charge etched in three languages "This is the King of the Jews". Yet, with his full body weight pulling on the nails driven through his hands, he has not finished his ministry. 

Jesus makes it clear, his death is not defeat. It is the means of forgiveness. In fact, he even uses his last breaths to ask his Father to forgive his murderers (Luke 23:34). With crimson stained hands, he rolls out a red carpet to Paradise for a common criminal on the cross next to him (Luke 23:39-43). From first cry to final breath, Jesus lived what he taught. "Love your enemies" and "love your neighbor".

His very last breaths are used to shout. "Father, into your hands, I commit my spirit!" (Matthew 27:45–56; Mark 15:33–41; Luke 23:44–49). There may just be a double meaning here. Jesus dies bearing the fullness of God's wrath for sinners like you and me. The Father's hands of judgement are fierce. Maybe that's why he shouts the words. Yet for Jesus, he knows that, with that robber next to him, his next moments will be in Paradise. He will enjoy the comforts of his Father's embrace. He has completed our redemption. 

The dark shadowy events of Friday morning are an eclipse of sorts. The sun rising behind the shadows are a picture of our salvation completely accomplished by Jesus on that cross. There no longer needs to be sacrifices. The curtain to the holy of holies is torn from top to bottom. Jesus is the once for all sacrifice. He is the new curtain. We have access to God because of his torn flesh. 

Friday is "good" because our sin is paid for in full. It is "good" because the darkest morning shines with the brightest glory. The symbol of brutality has become the symbol of beauty. Wonder at the cross of Christ today, church. Glory in the cross today.
 

"With his wounds we are healed!" (Isaiah 53:5).

I love you Springs of Grace Family!

Grant Rose
Lead Pastor, Springs of Grace