So we come to that day of days when we’re really not quite sure what we’re supposed to be doing. Like, we know that we should be doing something, but just how do you mark a day when God dies at the hands of humans.
Well, you tell the story, you remember, maybe weep, give thanks… maybe just allow some silence to work it's healing.
We do all of these things on Good Friday. There is also a moment where folk come to honour the crucifix. Some will embrace it, some touch, some just simply look. It’s just like a regular funeral where some will want to touch while others can only and simply look. There’s no right way when all are respectful and supportive of each other.
As far as we can tell The Master Carpenter died on the wood with nails through his hands and feet at about 3pm. It matters not if we are little out and something got lost down through the centuries, the important thing is that we come and honour and pray and we receive communion.
So at 3:00pm on Good Friday at Christchurch Hamilton we will gather with that familiar bewilderment and ache, the thanksgiving and the tears. All are welcome. We gather with the hope and the knowledge that this is not the end. There is something more after His Good Friday and there will be something more after my Good Friday.
I’ve always struggled to find the right words for Good Friday so I’ve pinched someone else's to conclude.
So hold me that I fear not
In deaths most fearful hour
That I might be befriended
And see in my last strife
To me your arms extended
Upon the cross of life.