Thoughts, Prayers & Art

Originally published: April 18, 2025

“They took Jesus…”

That’s how it begins.
Not gently.
Not prayerfully.
Not even justly.

“They took Jesus…”
The government, the religious elite, the soldiers, the crowds…
They took him, bound him, beat him, and nailed him to wood.

And we like to think we wouldn’t be part of that crowd.
But I wonder…

Would we have spoken up?
Or would we have been silent for the sake of comfort?
Would we have prayed a private prayer and hoped someone else would step in?

Good Friday isn’t just a history lesson.
It’s a mirror.

It’s a mirror held up to our world-
a world still crucifying truth,
still mocking love,
still condemning the innocent,
and still trying to wash its hands clean of injustice.

In Gaza, Sudan, Ukraine, the Congo, and on our own streets…
Innocents still suffer.
Bodies are still broken by empire.
Children cry out for bread and are handed bullets and bombs.
Refugees are disappeared, imprisoned, or deported.

And here - here at home,
we turn away from the brutality,
change the channel,
scroll past the suffering,
or worse- 
we spiritualize it, make it a metaphor,
rather than a cry from the Cross still echoing:
“I thirst.”

Good Friday tells the truth.
It refuses to flinch.
It says:
“Here is your God, suffering.”
Not distant,
not removed,
not passive—
but willingly, purposefully entering the pain.

Jesus didn’t die so we could avoid suffering.
He died to show us what love looks like when it meets suffering head on.
Unyielding.
Unrelenting.
Unbreakable.

And yes—love dies on that Cross.
But not forever…

The world today is heavy with crosses.
Crosses carried by the poor, the imprisoned, the addicted, the outcast, the grieving.
By those whose color, gender, or beliefs make them targets.
By mothers clutching pictures of missing children.
By queer youth abandoned by their churches.
By veterans with no peace.
By you.
By me.

And into that raw, bleeding world-
Jesus still walks.
Jesus still says:
“I see you. I won’t look away.”

The Cross is not just the site of death.
It’s the intersection of God and humanity.
It’s where our worst met God’s best.
And love refused to leave.

So where is God when the world breaks?

Right here.
On the cross.
With the betrayed, the broken, and the brave.
With the mothers weeping and the ones who stay to bear witness.

With you.

Today, we don’t rush to Easter.
We sit with the sorrow.
We tend the body.
We keep vigil.
Because in doing so, we remember that no pain is too deep for God to enter.
No darkness too great for God’s presence.

And that, beloved
is the beginning of hope.