Good Friday

This was done by my brother, Stan, on a 15-foot canvas in 15 minutes for part of their Good Friday service a few years ago. I love it because in this picture, Jesus does not look like an emaciated Caucasian like most portraits of him. He looks Middle Eastern. And those eyes....

On my walk this morning I began crying - “Lord, I don’t want to go through Good Friday. I want to skip to Easter. I don’t want to think about your suffering or the suffering of those parentless kids at Village of Hope. Can’t we just fast-forward?”

Just as I took care not to get pricked by the crown of thorns I sewed on the church banner, I carefully avoid pain and suffering each and every day.
It has struck me this year that Jesus set his face towards Jerusalem…towards pain…towards events that are sure to come…towards political schemes that manipulate the weak, towards powerful men who are threatened by the meek.

I find that I run away from all these things. I want to hide my head in the sand or hop on a plane to get away. I can’t even handle getting pricked by a thorn.

But not Jesus. He faced it.

Amazing love
How can it be -
That you, my God
Would die for me?