A vibrant and bursting life, beautiful in its heartbeat and energy, cut short by an enemy called death. Oh, the grief of early and sudden death. It is the miserable thief of happiness, hope, and joy. And Death, the enemy who stole my son, steals us all, sooner or later.
So today, on Good Friday, I am thankful that Christ also suffered an early death, and died for the lost, for the dark and heavy sins of humanity, for the heartbreak of a bereaved mother. 2000 years ago, on a lonely hill far away, on a harsh cross, Jesus willingly took nails in his hands and feet. He died himself, so that the finality of death would be destroyed. Because of Jesus, someday I will see my son alive and vibrant again.
The suffering of Christ has never meant so much to me as it does this Good Friday. Perhaps Jesus' awesome, sacrificial, history-changing act doesn't sink in till you lose someone you feel you can't live without. My son Joey, whom I miss so deeply, will not be forever separated from us. One day, because of Jesus, we will have a reunion that never ends, and it will explode with life. Death will be done. Heaven and earth will burst with celebration and hope and joy and happiness and peace. All together again.
Good, Good Friday.