Good Friday, indeed (And why I didn’t rub dirt on my face and lament)

In Australia Good Friday is observed as a public holiday.

Now I could just have a hazy memory, but I don’t think Good Friday is included among our “holidays” in America. (If I’m wrong, please forgive me. It’s been 12 years.)

Ryan and I don’t have EAster Monday off  (some do, but not our workplace), but we do have Good Friday off along with the rest of Australia. So as the day approached I thought a lot about how we should spend our time.

Since we’ve been so crazy busy lately it was kind of a given that we needed some down tiem as a family. But we needed to do something “spiritual” too, right?

Maybe watch The Passion (after the kids are in bed)? or go to a church service? or–I don’t know–rub dirt on our faces and tear our clothes?

But instead we went to the beach.

We ate a picnic lunch.

We played in the water.

We lounged under palm trees.

We ate fudgesicles.

We loaded sandy little feet and wind blown hair and rosy-shouldered bodies into the car.

And as we were driving home from the beach I thought to myself, what a perfect GOod Friday.

I do’t want to mourn on Good Friday. I don’t want to lament.

Yes, there’s been pain. There’s been suffering. There’s been incredible injustice.

I understand all of that. (As much as my finite mind can at least.)

But I also understnad htat the reason for all of that is to give us a good day. A very good day.

A day so good that we can’t help but give thanks to the One who has sacrificed and poured out his everything so that we might have incredible, amazing, aweosme days like today.

You know, really, really spiritual days.

If it weren’t for his suffereing, there is no way I’d have ever met my husband or have the two gorgeous boys that I have now.

And so what better way to recall his suffering than to enjoy (part of) the very reason he paid the price?

Thank you Holy God, for a Good Friday, indeed.

STOP.

Q for you: Do you observe Good Friday? How?

Love,
A

p.s. I absolutely think there is a time and a space for meditating on the dark hour of the cross and all that it entails. If that’s how you choose to observe Good Friday, then I think that’s wonderful. Today just wasn’t that day for us. And that’s okay too.

Click Clink Five | Five minutes a day, unedited.
Adriel also writes (using spell check!) on motherhood and parenting at The Mommyhood Memos

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About Adriel Booker

Writer. Speaker. Difference-Maker. I live Down Under with my love and littles where we serve with YWAM and try to make the world a better place. View all posts by Adriel Booker

5 responses to “Good Friday, indeed (And why I didn’t rub dirt on my face and lament)

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