Could This Be a Good Friday?
I was born into darkness. Not the kind of darkness that comes with the night, but the darkness that shrouds the world when you cannot see. For I was born blind, navigating the streets of Jerusalem by touch and sound, reliant on the generosity of strangers for my survival.
Life was a constant struggle. I scrounged for food wherever I could find it, my tin cup serving as a meager vessel for the coins tossed my way. Some days, I managed to scrape together enough to buy a few morsels of fresh fruit or secure a shelter for the night, but most nights were spent under the open sky, huddled against the cold with only the animals for company.
Then, one day, everything changed. I heard the commotion of a crowd approaching, and through the cacophony of voices, I sensed a presence unlike any other. His name was Jesus, a man rumored to perform miracles, including healing the blind! With a desperate plea, I called out to him, my voice barely audible above the din of the crowd.
“Rabbi, Rabbi! Give me back my sight!”
To my astonishment, he stopped. He knelt beside me and placed his strong hand upon my shoulder. His touch felt both gentle and yet powerful. Though I couldn’t see him, I could feel his gaze piercing through the darkness, and his words washed over me like a wave of warmth.
What he said next both surprised and confused me. “Your sins are forgiven.”
And yet, as if by some divine command, light began to flood my vision. Colors slowly began to dance before my eyes, shapes crystallized into focus, and there, before me, slowly coming into focus, was the face of the man who had given me back my sight. His smile radiated a love beyond comprehension, and in that moment, I knew that my life would never be the same. He gave my shoulder a squeeze before standing and returning on His way.
But that is now a distant memory. Today, I stand here, gazing upon the same man who restored my sight, my heart is heavy with sorrow. He hangs upon a cross, condemned by the very people He came to save. The religious leaders sneer in derision, the Roman soldiers mock his claim to kingship, and the crowds jeer at his suffering.
How could this be happening? How could the one who brought light into my darkness be subjected to such cruelty? As I watch him gasping for breath, his body broken and bloodied, I wrestle with the mystery of his suffering.
And then, in the depths of my soul, I hear his words echoing once more: “Your sins are forgiven.”
I remember wondering why He chose those words. He could have said, “I now restore your vision,” or “Your sight I give back to you.” But instead, He spoke of my sins being forgiven. He knew of my deeper need. The spiritual darkness I lived in, that was darker than even the physical stumbling that marked my daily life.
Could it be that this Man is more than just a healer of physical ailments? Could He be the bearer of redemption for more than just those He encounters in person, along the streets? Could He be taking upon Himself the sins of the world?! In a city that smalls of sacrifices to atone for sins, could He be the ultimate sacrifice to atone for the sins of the world?
As tears blur the vision this man gave me, I wonder again about His words, “Your sins are forgiven,” and if they might be the key to why this Good Man is dying. If perhaps this terrible Friday, might somehow be good.
Somewhere deep within, I believe that soon we shall find out that truly, ultimately, this must be a Good Friday.
Written by Karl Bastian – 2024
