It's Easter Friday and I've just woken up from a nap after a biggish sort of day.
The last few days have been a bit of struggle and I'm still not sure if I'm just dreadfully fatigued from work or it has been a prelude to something more sinister.
By sinister, of course, I mean something like a head cold as it seems the o'l sinuses are taking perverse pleasure in creating headaches.
The Good Friday service at church this morning seemed to have gone down well with the congregation, judging from the reception I received. Can't take any credit for it as I mainly did what I was told. Sang some beloved hymns and read relevant scriptural texts (that part was mine) while objects from the crucifixion story were passed around the room.
It was a sober time and the pastor led a spontaneous time of sharing from the congregants.
I have always liked the sobriety of the occasion but honestly, what else could one be?
Consider this: Our Lord, the God of creation allowed himself to die at the hands of men under one of the most brutal form of capital punishment devised by humans.
I can't take it lightly even if I don't ponder over the ramifications of our Lord's sacrifice enough.
When I think of the cross, I think of the utter gravity of sin on one side, and on the other, I think of love. Real love. Robust, self-sacrificing love.
It is the gold standard after all.