I’m not actually inclined to do a lot of reading, or talking, today. As far back as I can remember, Good Friday has been a day for keeping quiet, for reflecting, for watching and waiting. For realizing that nothing we, or any book, can say has any weight next to the eloquence of what’s happening on Golgotha. For sitting quietly in its shadow and letting God have the last word.
I’m going to light the candles on the dining room table before the kids have their dinner tonight. As they’re eating, I’m going to read to them from Mark 14:53 – 15:47. When we come to Jesus’ death, and the proclamation of the centurion that “Truly, this man was the Son of God!” we’ll extinguish the candles. And I think that’s it. If there are questions, I’ll field them. But I won’t be asking any. Not today.