Last Words: A Good Friday Liturgy
I can't recall a time in my life that I didn't know the story of the cross.
I've imagined it in my head thousands of times: the sights, the sounds, the weather, the crowds, the soldiers, the criminals on either side. Mary, John, the sky as it darkens, the final breath, the removal of Jesus' body, the embalming, the burial...
All of it.
I can see it playing over and over in my head, but I don't know that I always appreciated the gravity and humanity of the moments that Jesus spoke out loud while hanging nailed to a tree.
Nails in each hand. Nails through his feet. Desperately trying to breathe. The agony is overwhelming and that part is still hard for me to imagine as I replay the scene.
And yet...he spoke. He cried out. He offered mercy. He was concerned for his family. He prayed the psalms. He pleaded with the Father. He resigned himself to death.
