Bipolar Friday

Good Friday.

In my house, that’s pretty much every Friday because it is the lovely day that precedes the weekend, but this one in particular has a special twist.

It’s quite a bipolar day. One moment it’s terribly sad and the next it’s joyously happy, which I can assume is a confusing prospect for people who don’t know the story around it.

Good Friday is the day Jesus was flogged, cursed, and executed by way of crucifixion. As you may perceive, this is the “terribly sad” part of Good Friday.

If that were the end of the tale, Good Friday would be called Bad Friday and we’d all run around weeping and wearing lots of black and would never be merry again. But there’s a catch.

Through Jesus living a perfect life and then through his horrid death, we get eternal life.

I know what you’re thinking: Well, somebody got the short end of the stick. And you’re right! There is absolutely nothing fair about this bargain. Jesus dies after living a whole life of never sinning – not even once – which we humans could never do and we get the prizes for it? This would not stand up in our courts, I can tell you that. In fact, why did Jesus even do it? He gets pain and heartbreak while we get to live out our little lives. To do something like this by choice is an insane decision to make.

The answer is, quite simply, that he loves us. Not in the past tense, mind you. He loves us so much that he would die. For you. And it caused him pain and sorrow and temptation beyond the boundaries of human endurance, but he did that for you and for me and for anyone else you would care to mention in the history of the universe. He died for the sins you did yesterday, and the sins you did today, and the sins of tomorrow so that we are secure in knowing that we will spend eternity in Heaven, which is described in plain terms as “the party that will never end”. And if that isn’t reason to celebrate, I don’t know what is.

Remember in the above paragraph how I said “loves” instead of “loved”? Doesn’t make much sense when one is speaking of a dead person, unless the person in question is a supernatural specialist with a habit of blowing minds.

Because Jesus didn’t stay dead.

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