It Was a Good, Good Friday
John 3:16 For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.
My daddy was the best storyteller. He always had little children on the hook for a good tall tale, sometimes true, and most of the time made up. His deep voice always had you captivated; gosh, I miss that voice. My daughter used to call them “Papa Stories.” "Tell another Papa Story", she’d say. He told us all many, many stories, and he was the one who first told my brother and me the story of Good Friday, the Crucifixion, and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. As a child, I always wondered why Jesus died on this day, we call it “Good?” I would ask him, “Daddy, why is it a good Friday and he would say, “Because Jesus wasn’t just good, He was the Greatest and only thing you’ll ever need.”
The Darkness
Luke 23: 44- 46 It was now about noon, and the darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon.” For the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit. When he had said this, he breathed his last.”
This year, Good Friday happens to fall on March 29th. I hate March 29th. You are not human if you have not gone through some sort of darkness in your lifetime, I have been through a divorce, and I lost my momma to cancer---but March 29th.
March 29th brings me so much grief and pain that I can’t even begin to describe it to most people without them thinking I am crazy, so on this day I usually hide. I try not to go into public. I don’t talk to anyone except my family; I would stay in bed with the covers over my head if I could. The rest of the world will spin, but my world will stop.
On March 29, 2021, we were all casually going about our business. I got up and got ready for school. I was teaching the 6th grade at the time, and on the drive in, I made a mental list of things I needed to do that day, which included calling my dad and checking in like I did every day since my momma died. At lunchtime, I remember thinking, I need to call Dad. I got busy doing something school-related, and I can’t remember. I didn’t call him. On my way home at around 3 in the afternoon, I called him, and he did not answer. At 6 p.m., my son, who had recently started driving, said, “Hey, Mom, let’s take Papa a Blizzard.” So the kids and I loaded up, stopped at the DQ for Dad’s favorite Oreo Blizzard, and took it to his house. His car wasn’t in the driveway. My son drove us to my brother’s house to see if he was there, which he sometimes would be. My brother Chad was on his lawnmower, he hadn’t heard from Dad either. The ice cream was melting all down the side of the cup into my hand. I thought Blizzards weren’t supposed to melt that fast. My daughter called him again, no answer. Where was he? He had started dabbling back into his insurance business but wasn't taking road trips again. It had been three months since our momma passed away. Did he work today and not tell us? Okay, now the worry in my gut started to creep in but let’s not panic the kids. We went back home and started the nightly routine. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, Dad still didn't answer. My brother and I stayed in contact, calling or texting every few minutes. My husband was about to go back out to see if he was home yet or to drive around at least when my phone rang at 9 p.m. It was my brother. State troopers were at his door. “Erica,” Chad never said my name like that. Why did he just call me Erica? He always calls me Sis.
“Dad was in a car accident”
"It happened around noon.”
Noon.
“He did not make it.”
Noon. Noon. Noon.
We’ve been all day without our dad in this world. All day. Noon. They are just now telling us. Noon. I taught class all day. My daddy died, and no one told me, and I STILL taught kids at school. Noon. Someone is screaming, who is that screaming? Someone stop that screaming. Oh, God, it is me. You are going to scare the kids, stop screaming. Oh, God, my Daddy. You took my Daddy. Noon.
Most people who go through a trauma like that would say the rest of the events during the next few days, even weeks, were a blur, but not me. I remember every single detail. Right down to the smell of the funeral flowers. I had COVID-19 when Mom and Dad had it just before Momma died three months prior, I lost my sense of smell and still to this day have trouble smelling some things, but I can’t get that smell out out of my brain. Three years later, I probably never will.
In the Twilight of Grief
Matthew 27:57-61 As evening approached, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body and Pilate ordered that it be given to him. Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own tomb that he had cut out of the rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance of the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting there opposite the tomb.
These women who loved Jesus so much were beyond broken with grief for their Savior, Son, and Son of Man. Their faith is tested, and anger may be filling them up, questioning God and asking why. Why, God, did you let this happen to our Jesus, to your Son? Even if, of course, they knew why, it still hurt so deep and so unbearable. They had just watched Him undergo the worst kind of unimaginable torture, His body ripped to near shreds for hours, and His blood spilled down that cross. They wept and bellowed at the site of His shattered body.
During Passover, lambs were sacrificed at 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. Jesus was nailed to the cross at 9 a.m. At noon, the sky went dark, and at 3 p.m., the Lamb of God died, fulfilling the sacrifice for us so that we may have eternal life. He is “The Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world!” John 1:29 This marks the completion of the divine promise, offering redemption and grace to all of us!
Sunday’s Coming
John 20: 11-16 Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?” “They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him." At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus. He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it that you are looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”
Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
Oh, to be Mary Magdalene in that moment. To hear your name be called out by Jesus and realize it is Him! It is HIM! He has RISEN!
Hey Mary, Death could not hold Him!
He told you He would Rise, and He did! Can you imagine even trying to capture the essence of those few seconds? Her heart must have been about to explode! Unrestrained tears flowing down her face, He is ALIVE! He is ALIVE!
Michelle and I just finished a Bible study by Kristi McLelland with another dear friend of ours. She was discussing our first face-to-face encounter with Jesus in Heaven and what that might be like! Kristi spoke of Jesus’ great banquet table that He was preparing for us and that she had once heard someone say that Jesus might meet us at the Gates of Heaven and wash our feet because we had been on such a difficult journey. What a thought!
I get tears in my eyes every time I picture my daddy walking through the Gates of Heaven, Peter, saying, “Larry Miller, yes right this way, He’s waiting for you.”
He turns the corner, and there is Jesus with His washcloth and basin of water. He looks into my daddy’s eyes and says, “Well done, My son. Now you must be tired. Sit here and rest, and let Me wash your feet.”
My daddy is healed of his epilepsy. He is healed of his heart disease and scars from his car wreck. He hurts no more.
Oh Jesus, thank you for loving us this much! Oh Lord, thank you for sending us this Son of Yours to die so we might have a room in your Heavenly mansion.
Then I get tickled at the thought of my momma turning the corner next and saying, “Larry, I hope you clipped your toenails first!” And Daddy saying, “Oh, JoAnn!” Jesus starts laughing because we know He has a sense of humor!
This is what I know to be true. I was and still am brokenhearted, and I don't think that will ever go completely away. I know that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted, as stated in Psalm 34:18, and I spent many sleepless nights relying on His love to get me through. I also know that my daddy loved the Lord and believed with all his heart that Jesus Christ died on the cross for his sins and was resurrected on that Sunday and he and my momma both are in Heaven. I can count on that until I see them again in Glory one day.
I leave you with this because I wouldn't honor either of my Fathers today if I didn't say it. My daddy served Jesus and walked with Him his whole life; he made sure his children and grandchildren knew about Him too. He would witness to the most unlikely of souls and pick them up for church on Sunday if they needed a ride. I have had so many people reach out to me since his death and say, "If it weren't for your dad..." So, as his daughter, I hope I can live up to a fraction of that legacy. If you don't know Jesus, I promise you a relationship with Him is the only way to get through the hardest times, the grief, and the pain. I am a testimony to that. Jesus says himself in Matthew 5: 4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Jesus is the way to healing, renewal, and peace. I pray each one reading this today finds your way to Him.
I hope you have a Great, Great Friday,
Erica
