He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned everyone to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53: 3-6
Before I begin the new chapter of my life story; I really want to pause to consider once more what faith really is. That is what were going to be the major lessons that I would have to learn over the next 2 decades of my life? What does faith really look like? What is it? What better day to look at that than today, “Good Friday!” The most horrendous act of mob injustice ever and we call it “good.” The day when all the sins of the world, the horrors of the concentration camps, the terrorist bombings, the death of innocent children, and every evil gossiping word that ever came from my own lips were bore by perfect righteousness. He was beaten for my sins. He was mocked, humiliated, and hung on a cross to pay the price of my sin. As He hung there with all the sins of mankind upon His shoulders, the most horrid of all things was when His Father’s joy, love and spirit turned away. The entire earth shook!! Darkness covered the world as the only true light of the world gave up His life to plunge into death alone, naked and covered with my shame, my guilt. We celebrate that as “Good” Friday.
artwork by permission of Ronald Barba
The Centurion Soldier which was in charge of Christ’s execution watched as all the events unfolded. He had heard Jesus say “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). This Soldier had witnessed the conversation among those upon the cross. He had watched Jesus tell John to care for Mary. Whatever agony was His own,