I write these words from my back deck overlooking the woods behind my house. The sun is shining, the temperature is a majestic 80º, the trees are budding, and the carpenter bees darting around my head are only slightly aggressive. It truly is a good Friday.
But why is this particular day, the Friday before Easter Sunday, formally dubbed Good Friday? This is the day we commemorate the brutal torture and execution of Jesus Christ. Historically and biblically, this is not the good day. Good is the resurrection. Good is life winning out over death. Good is an empty grave.
But good is not the pain, not the betrayal, not the loneliness, not the silence. Those are the things we push away, avoiding them at all costs. Such things cannot be good.