Photo by Grant Whitty on Unsplash
On Bearing Witness to Pain: A Good Friday Reflection
The Bible says that darkness fell when the Son of God drew His last and final breath, committing His spirit into the hands of His Father (Luke 23:44-46).
The devastating and horrendous day began with mockery, beating, and spitting. Then there was the carrying of His own cross as He had to walk, beaten and bloodied, to the place where they would crucify Him. Then came the tearing and distributing of His own clothes.
The Son of God, mocked and beaten, forced to carry the cross that should’ve been ours.
Then came the nails and the hanging and the tearing open of flesh as He cried out to God in pain and deep distress.
Then, darkness — utter darkness as the veil was torn and the God-Man returned Home, His last breath becoming our own broken road to everlasting life.
We think of this day, Good Friday, as the not-good-at-all day when our Savior died a most undeserving and unkind death. But you know what I can’t get out of my head?
The women.
The women who were there from the very beginning were the same ones that stayed with Him till the very end. The gospels of Luke, Mark, and John all record the women being with Jesus as He made His way to the cross. Never does it say they left.
They watched and they no doubt cried and I would bet that when Jesus drew His last breath, they could feel His death down deep in their very bones.
“A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him.” (Luke 23:27, NIV)
“Some women were watching from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joseph, and Salome. In Galilee these women had followed him and cared for his needs. Many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem were also there.” (Mark 15:40-41, NIV)
“Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.” (John 19:25-27, NIV)
We know they got close enough for Jesus to turn toward them and speak. They were within earshot at one point and I can’t imagine the fear and sorrow that landed heavily in their hearts that dark day as they watched their beloved son, friend, and Savior being nailed to a cross.
And I think about the crosses I’ve borne in my own life and how the weight of them was lessened by the presence of those who cared to bare witness to my pain.
The women stayed.
They faced the pain and they chose to be brave, not by standing tall and strong or turning away, but by wailing and entering into the weightiness of it all. They bore their Savior’s suffering — maybe not completely physically, but on every other level — and it makes me wonder if their presence provided comfort.
I would wager the Son of Man felt less alone in those moments of locking eyes with the women who knew His desire to make mankind whole. They knew His heart, listened to His words, and loved Him when others mocked Him.
They saw eternity in His eyes and I’m sure He saw nothing less than tender adoration mixed with agony and confusion in theirs.
And yet, the women stayed.
Jesus invites us to bear witness to His suffering today, not to torture or shame us. But to show us that we serve a God Who knows what it’s like to lose breath in the face of sorrow. Who knows what it’s like to have bones crushed and a soul torn in two. Tragedy is something Jesus is well acquainted with, and perhaps today, His invitation to us is to hold space for the pain — His and our own.
To be brave as we weep and hold it all up to the Light, shaky hands and all, believing that Sunday is coming and that Sundays still come. The Light still chases away the darkness. The Love still casts out the fear.
But first, we have to hold it. We have to hold what feels heavy and broken so that it can be taken and made new.
Maybe here is where we begin to truly behold Him — right here in the middle of the mess and heaviness of it all. Here in the pain is where we behold Him holding us.
Don’t run away, brave one, don’t hide yourself from Him today. Like those women at the cross, stay. Stay with the pain and the suffering while inviting the joy and the hope to leak right on in.
There’s room for both, and praise be to the God Who knows just how arduous it can be to hold out for hope.
“He was despised and rejected by mankind,
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.”(Isaiah 53:3, NIV, emphasis added)
And there is hope because Sunday’s coming.
But today, here on this day of tragedy and death, may we stay with the pain that brought us to the foot of the cross. May we thank our suffering for bringing us closer to the shelter of the Most High.
May we remember, as author KJ Ramsey writes, that the space between today’s hurt and tomorrow’s healing is sacred ground.
“But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed.”(Isaiah 53:5, NIV, emphasis added)
Praise be to our own Wounded Healer.
Peace be with you,
Celia
A Good Friday Breath Prayer
breathe in:
By His wounds.
breath out:
We are healed.
*if you’d like to learn more about the practice of breath prayer, check out this blog post I wrote titled, How to Use Breath Prayer.
Good Friday Resources
This week on the blog, I wrote a Holy Week reflection on suffering with Jesus and what it looked like for Him to show strength in the face of fear and tragedy. Read or listen to it here: A Holy Week Reflection on Suffering with Jesus
On the Discerning Leader Podcast, host Steve Macchia and guest speaker, David Vryhof, unpack Holy Week. This particular episode deep dives into Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Resurrection Sunday: Reengaging the Passion
The Daily Still Podcast offers a Good Friday reflection and space to slow down, be present, and meditate on Jesus’ crucifixion day: Good Friday — A Holy Week Meditation
My Sacred Ordinary Days planner provides a lectionary for Good Friday and all the days in Holy Week. A lectionary is a set of specific Scripture passages that are typically read during church services throughout specific times of the year. Here is today’s lectionary if you’d like to read along and meditate on them with the Holy Spirit:
Isaiah 52:13 — 53:12
Psalm 22
Hebrews 10:16—25 or Hebrews 4:14—16, 5:7—9
John 18:1—19, 42
An Invitation to Pause & Reflect
A regular practice of reflection helps us recognize what’s going on beneath the surface of our souls so we can name it in the Lord’s presence. Because as we learn to name what we feel, what we need, and what we long for, we’re also learning to discern the Spirit’s sweet, gentle voice within our hearts and lives.
Take a few moments today or this weekend to journal or contemplate with the Holy Spirit the following question(s) or prompt(s):
Choose one of the gospels and read very slowly through Jesus’ crucifixion story. After reading through it a few times, close your eyes and imagine yourself inside the story, with all of your fear, questions, and sorrow. Resist the urge to run away and stay with the pain.
As you practice placing yourself inside the story of Jesus’ crucifixion, take note of the following:
Where are you in the story?
What are you doing?
What do you hear?
What do you smell?
What are you feeling?
Let the Holy Spirit guide your imagination and reveal even deeper truths to you about this somber, dark day in history. Then journal about what you noticed and what the Spirit revealed to you through this experience of bearing witness to the pain.
What a lovely letter. I have always been amazed at how faithful the women were, even beyond what they thought was the end. I agree that their presence surely lightened the burden of Jesus' suffering.
Thank you, Celia, for writing and sharing this. As we have grieved the death of our son these past few years, it has been a great comfort to us that Christ came to be the Suffering Savior. By His wounds we ARE healed. He IS aquainted with and grief suffering that is even greater than ours. How precious to know He loves us this much.