Good Friday
Meditations on the Last Words of Christ
This service is about experiencing Good Friday
Through symbol, word, and song
Engaging the 5 Senses
all derived from and pointing to the 7 Last Words of Christ
This service is about experiencing Good Friday
Through symbol, word, and song
Engaging the 5 Senses
all derived from and pointing to the 7 Last Words of Christ
Father forgive them, they know not what they do. . .
He told us not to
throw stones unless
We had no sin, but he
had no sin,
And so we hanged him
instead,
Whipped, and bloody,
there he hangs,
Right there on that
cross:
Holy hands, Holy
feet, thorny crown,
All complete, and yet
He forgives us,
Even so He forgives
us,
And still He forgives
us,
Here is a basket of
stones.
Who shall be first?
Who shall be last?
Take one, each one is
jagged, broken,
Just like you are,
none is perfect,
No smooth edges, so
grab hold of yourself,
And throw it, do the
job and destroy perfection,
He makes us look bad,
like fools,
Take one, any one,
throw it.
Look he's made it
easy,
He turns His back,
He's closed His eyes
Throw it now!
No?
Coward.
Coward.
How can we ever
pick up a stone again,
then?
Father, do you still
forgive us when we do?
This day you will be with me in paradise. . .
They hung me on a
cross next to Him,
Next to Him what was
I?
No, I, next to Him,
was nothing.
Next to me, He was
without blemish, without stain,
Perfect, and
untarnished, and blooming,
And blinding, His
light was blinding.
And I next to Him was
not.
I deserved it, well
maybe not this,
No one deserves this,
But I was guilty,
I did what they said
I had done.
My soul has been withered
a long time,
The things that
nourish
My roots have all but
been forgotten.
I made my way through
this world.
I made my bed, and
I'll lie in it.
I embrace the
darkness
Where I can finally
rest.
It is the choice I
have always made.
What makes Him?
What makes Him do?
I will surely
remember Him?
And that He was
Hanged next to me.
Will He remember me,
That I was next to
Him?
Maybe I should ask. .
.
Woman, behold your son; son behold your mother. . .
Could you imagine
watching your child go through it,
The trial, the
beatings, the cross?
You know you'd feel
every lash.
You'd feel the pain.
You'd cry each tear.
Even the words would
hurt
The jeers, the
accusations.
That's my son,
I remember holding
him,
Him lying there in
the manger,
There was a moment
when He was just mine,
Mother and Son,
Before the Shepherds
came,
Only to this,
It has rent my heart
in two.
Behold he says,
If only for one more
time,
One more second,
One more day,
I could just hold
Him,
Rather than behold
Him.
My soul would truly
magnify the Lord,
If he would just look
again on his lowly servant,
And show one more
time the strength of his arm,
And give me one more
moment,
Then I would truly
call myself blessed.
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me. . .
If there is one thing
a carpenter knows (bang)
It is nails, nails
and wood, (bang)
And the bang of a
hammer. (bang)
Joseph showed me how
to hold a nail just right, (bang)
To swing a hammer
just so (bang)
And the nail would go
in, faster (bang)
One swing (bang)
Two Swings (bang)
And we'd be off to
the next. (bang)
Joseph sure could
swing a hammer. (bang)
I almost got used to
the noise, (bang)
So I could hear it
without flinching. (bang)
Oh the things he
would make, (bang)
Tables (bang)
Chairs (bang)
Even Homes (bang)
He'd never make
something like this. (bang)
There just is no art in
torture (bang)
And my Father is an
artist (bang)
Crafting with care
(bang)
A carpenter is a
creator (bang)
And a creator's work
is never done (bang)
Eli Eli Lama
Sabachthani (bang)
Why God, Why? (bang)
I thirst. . .
Have you ever been so
thirsty it hurts?
Your throat starts to
dry,
And it seems like it
is cracking,
Just like the dry
dusty ground,
When the sun burns
down in August.
It's hot, and you
sweat.
It all just flows out
of you,
And nothing is
replaced.
Jesus is there, and
beyond.
He's not just leaking
sweat either,
But blood and bile
and pus,
Just gushing out,
emptying him
Of all the waters of
life,
And his voice comes
out in a hoarse whisper,
I thirst.
When you are that
dry,
And your tongue is
swollen and raw,
Even water burns.
Could you imagine
vinegar?
It burns your nose.
Even cut with oil on
salad,
It leaves your tongue
split and burning,
Dry.
How cruel do you have
to be
To mock someone's
need like that?
Again did we not know
what we were doing?
I've thirsted,
Ignorance is not what
it was.
It is accomplished. . .
Is it the weight of
this burden,
These chains that
drag me down,
Or is it that they
have trapped me,
Confining me so I
can't be free?
I so want to be free.
I want to do what I
want.
I want to control who
I am.
I want to define
myself.
I want to be whatever
I want to be.
It's my right. I've
seen it written.
I can be whatever I
want.
We call it free will,
But why does it feel
more like chains?
Why do I always seem
to choose to carry this burden?
Why is it comfortable
to live confined in lies?
What is that, Jesus?
What did you say?
It is accomplished?
What is?
How?
Wait what?
It is as if I could
fly away.
Is this the light?
I'm so light, even I
could walk on water.
Father into thy hands I commend my spirit. . .
It started with a
rainbow and a promise,
And then it grew,
To a nation,
A child,
A land flowing with
milk and honey,
And demanded a
sacrifice of a son,
But not my son.
It then expanded to
laws,
A guide to being
righteous,
To make a sustainable
community,
But external laws are
hard to follow.
Give us a king,
instead,
Something we can
actually see.
He did,
Promising again.
We didn't.
Again hard to follow.
It all brought us to
this moment,
A new promise,
A new covenant,
Sealed in the
fulfillment of an old promise
An old sacrifice.
This time He writes
it on our heart,
For Love
Is more than a
promise,
It is more than
external,
It is experience.
So take and eat.
Take and drink.
Remember me,
Follow me,
And into the Father's
hands commend your spirit.
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