Happy Good Friday?

“Happy Good Friday.”

Those words always made me cringe and recoil in horror. This hasn’t changed over the years. They had the exact same effect on me this morning as my daughter lunged across the room, threw her arms around me and wished me, in a chirpy voice, “Happy Good Friday!”

Let me explain…

I grew up in a family from a very staunch and traditional Christian denomination. I was greatly influenced by the ladies in my family – all of whom have a deep love and respectful fear of God. As a young child I was very conscious of the discipline these ladies practiced and followed in their walk with God. I was so used to seeing my, now 90 year old, Grandma start her day by lighting up candles and saying her daily prayers – on her knees. I saw the same devotion in my mum. The clearest images from my childhood are of my mum sitting in her favourite chair in the early hours of the morning, her cup of tea on the side, pouring over The Bible. Yes, I was greatly impacted and naturally, I followed suit. As expected my Grandma, my mum and my aunts also set the standard for how the period of Lent was to be observed. My cousins and I, from a young age, did as they did. We fasted and made various sacrifices for 40 days during the period of Lent that lead up to Good Friday and ultimately, the joyous celebration of Easter.

Good Friday, to me, was a day that had it’s own set routine. We started the day with a very light breakfast of Hot Cross Buns and black coffee – quite opposite to the indulgent feast that is Easter breakfast. Unlike in the western world where Hot Cross Buns are sold for months before Easter, in India they are made and sold for two days only. It is not just another commercial stunt but rather, a solemn tradition. After breakfast, we would usually begin a fast that would last until 6pm. And those that didn’t fast would, as an act of sacrifice, eat a very lean and humble meal. This was followed by attending the church enactment of the scriptures surrounding the suffering and death of Jesus – The Passion Play, as it was called. Mum and I would then attend the prayer and meditation at our church on the “Last words of Jesus”. This was a beautiful service where we would take time to pray and mediate, corporately, on the depth of the words that Jesus spoke while hanging on the cross. When we returned home, we would read the “Passion of Christ” passages from the Bible. We would then return to church to attend the two hour evening service and communion. We would usually close the day by watching one of the many movies depicting the Passion of the Lord Jesus. We did not play music on Good Friday nor did we watch meaningless TV programs nor did we frolic with our friends or indulge in any frivolity of daily living. Good Friday was a day set apart – to study the scriptures, to reflect upon the Lord’s supreme sacrifice and love for us. Also, it was a day to solemnly grieve the painful death that our sins had brought upon our innocent, beautiful Saviour. Yes, it was a day to introspect and repent. And I must say, introspection and repentance almost naturally ushered in grief – the thought of one so pure suffering for my sins. Feeling happy on Good Friday is not a feeling I am familiar with. It always felt like we were attending Jesus’ annual funeral.

India is a diverse country. There are many different people, religions and therefore, many different festivals. It was not uncommon for some well meaning person, from another religion, to wish us a “Happy Good Friday”. To them it was a holiday and it had something to do with our God, therefore, “Happy Good Friday”! We recoiled in horror every single time and frantically tried to explain to them that the wish was inappropriate as it’s more or less a death anniversary despite the end to which the death was intended. Today, however, with India many miles and years behind me, I pinched myself as I encountered this same situation with my 6yr old daughter.

My 6yr old was not as gracious or apologetic as any of the unsuspecting people from yesteryear. She stood in front of me, eyes flashing, and loudly demanded to know why I had snuffed out her warm wishes. I tried hard to convince her of my point of view but she just brazenly insisted that it was a day of happiness. According to her it was not just a “Good” Friday but it was, in fact, an “Excellent” Friday. To put it in her words, “Ma, it’s a good thing that Jesus died. If He didn’t die for us, how would our sins be washed away?” I commanded her to shut up and show some respect. I asked her if she would celebrate when someone else died. She said it wasn’t the same thing. So then I just commanded her to shut up. Truth be told, she had just confronted me on all of my traditions. It’s not pleasant to be confronted on a lifetime of tradition – let alone, by a 6yr old.

The church I attend now (I moved church over a decade ago) is quite different to the traditional Church I grew up in. This Bible based, new way of looking at our faith is different  from the old way. The old way scored much higher in it’s respect and regard for the Almighty/ Glorious person of God – familiarity can sometimes make us complacent. But the old way is so heavily laden with guilt that the essence of that brutal “death by crucifixion” is lost. The whole point of Jesus’ death was to buy us the freedom that nothing and no one else could ever buy us – redemption from the death that sin brings upon us. He did not die for us to become mourners of His death. He died so we could become children of God for all eternity. He covered us in Grace. I must admit that these new, joyful undertones in the Good Friday service have changed the way I regard this day. But I also have to admit that, though I feel the joy, I haven’t been able to whole heartedly look at it as a joyful day. And no one has ever compelled me to reconsider my point of view until I crossed paths with this matter-of-fact, sprightly 6yr old.

What is it that makes us different from 6yr olds? Why is it that kids readily accept something when offered? Why is it they always tell it like it is? Why is it they’re not afraid to be themselves? I think it’s because they haven’t met society yet. They have not been programmed to be politically correct, socially acceptable, religious or pseudo-polite. This is why the Kingdom of heaven belongs to such as them. My 6yr year old has seen Jesus’ death for just what it is – a gift to us. She has accordingly decided to celebrate this gift with joy rather than a mournfulness that society has prescribed as the traditional reaction to any form of death. Today, I was challenged to do the same. I was challenged to embrace the joy of this sacrifice and to break free from the behaviour that tradition labels as “proper”.

I, however, have decided to follow a middle path. I don’t want to use my new revelation as an excuse to treat Good Friday as just another holiday – an excuse for parties, relaxation and indulgence. I would like to hold on to the day as one set apart for quiet reflection; while observing some form of abstinence. However, I intend to do this with an attitude of joy rather than the solemn air of someone attending a funeral. I’m even warming up to the idea of allowing my family to watch the television on Good Friday, if they want to! I’m trying to convince myself that people should be able to eat a proper meal if they choose to. Accepting Jesus, after all, is entirely a matter of the heart. It doesn’t require us to pay a price. The price has already been paid – IN FULL. All we have to do is to personally accept and invite Jesus into our hearts.

We live in a fallen world. The minute we are born into this world we are tainted by sin. The consequence for sin is death – tainted by sin we become ‘the walking dead’. The Bible says, “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son that whomsoever believeth in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” In the words of Louis Giglio, “Jesus did not come to change bad people into good people. He came to bring dead people back to life.” Good Friday is indeed a “Good” Friday. It is the day that Jesus, by His death and subsequent resurrection on Easter Sunday, opened up the option for us to choose Eternal Life. Choose Eternal Life.

Perspectives are always up for interpretation. Today I had to re-interpret mine and aim to make changes. The next time you see me on Good Friday I will be smiling – on the inside too. But will I actually wish you a “Happy Good Friday”? Probably not. I think I’ll leave that enthusiasm to the sprightly 6yr olds!