What's so Good about Good Friday?

I love Dane. With today being Good Friday, I spent some time thinking about the sacrifice Christ made for us, looking at it especially from the perspective of being a new parent.

I love Dane, but if his death saved a million people, I'm sure I would call it worth it. I would probably even consider it a worthy sacrifice if he died to save a thousand people - maybe even for just 100 "good" people. On a good day, I might even say him dying to save 10 "good" people would be a fair exchange. But how would I feel if he lost his life to save 10 "bad" people? Or 1 "bad person"? or even 1 "good person"? Because this is exactly the sacrifice that God made. He gave up his only Son to die for the sins of other people. He would have done it for even one sinner. And I'm sure you could argue that it was an easier decision for God because He is omnipotent and knew how things would end up and that Christ would rise from the dead a couple of days later. But I would argue that God would have done it anyway, even if He didn't know how things would end up. It is His character to be loving and to care for His people.

Crucifixion was a horrible way to die. The following is an excerpt from the article "A medical explanation of what Jesus endured on the day He died," written by Dr. C. Truman Davis. I encourage you all to read the full article.

The crucifixion began. Jesus was offered wine mixed with myrrh, a mild analgesic, pain-reliving mixture. He refused the drink. Simon was ordered to place the patibulum on the ground, and Jesus was quickly thrown backward, with His shoulders against the wood. The legionnaire felt for the depression at the front of the wrist. He drove a heavy, square wrought-iron nail through the wrist and deep into the wood. Quickly, he moved to the other side and repeated the action, being careful not to pull the arms too tightly, but to allow some flexion and movement. The patibulum was then lifted into place at the top of the stipes, and the titulus reading "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" was nailed into place.

The left foot was pressed backward against the right foot. With both feet extended, toes down, a nail was driven through the arch of each, leaving the knees moderately flexed. The victim was now crucified.

As Jesus slowly sagged down with more weight on the nails in the wrists, excruciating, fiery pain shot along the fingers and up the arms to explode in the brain. The nails in the wrists were putting pressure on the median nerve, large nerve trunks which traverse the mid-wrist and hand. As He pushed himself upward to avoid this stretching torment, He placed His full weight on the nail through His feet. Again there was searing agony as the nail tore through the nerves between the metatarsal bones of this feet.

At this point, another phenomenon occurred. As the arms fatigued, great waves of cramps swept over the muscles, knotting them in deep relentless, throbbing pain. With these cramps came the inability to push Himself upward. Hanging by the arm, the pectoral muscles, the large muscles of the chest, were paralyzed and the intercostal muscles, the small muscles between the ribs, were unable to act. Air could be drawn into the lungs, but could not be exhaled. Jesus fought to raise Himself in order to get even one short breath. Finally, the carbon dioxide level increased in the lungs and in the blood stream, and the cramps partially subsided.

Spasmodically, He was able to push Himself upward to exhale and bring in life-giving oxygen. It was undoubtedly during these periods that He uttered the seven short sentences that are recorded.

The first - looking down at the Roman soldiers throwing dice for His seamless garment: "Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do."

The second - to the penitent thief: "Today, thou shalt be with me in Paradise."

The third - looking down at Mary His mother, He said: "Woman, behold your son." Then turning to the terrified, grief-stricken adolescent John, the beloved apostle, He said: "Behold your mother."

The fourth cry is from the beginning of Psalm 22: "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?"

He suffered hours of limitless pain, cycles of twisting, joint-rending cramps, intermittent partial asphyxiation, and searing pain as tissue was torn from His lacerated back from His movement up and down against the rough timbers of the cross. Then another agony began: a deep crushing pain in the chest as the pericardium, the sac surrounding the heart, slowly filled with serum and began to compress the heart.

The prophecy in Psalm 22:14 was being fulfilled: "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint, my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels."

The end was rapidly approaching. The loss of tissue fluids had reached a critical level; the compressed heart was struggling to pump heavy, thick, sluggish blood to the tissues, and the tortured lungs were making a frantic effort to inhale small gulps of air. The markedly dehydrated tissues sent their flood of stimuli to the brain. Jesus gasped His fifth cry: "I thirst." Again we read in the prophetic psalm: "My strength is dried up like a potsherd; my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou has brought me into the dust of death" (Psalm 22:15 KJV).

A sponge soaked in posca, the cheap, sour wine that was the staple drink of the Roman legionnaires, was lifted to Jesus' lips. His body was now in extremis, and He could feel the chill of death creeping through His tissues. This realization brought forth His sixth word, possibly little more than a tortured whisper: "It is finished." His mission of atonement had been completed. Finally, He could allow His body to die. With one last surge of strength, He once again pressed His torn feet against the nail, straightened His legs, took a deeper breath, and uttered His seventh and last cry: "Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit."

Tonight, when I read the crucifixion story, I tried to read the story replacing "Christ, Son of God" to "Dane, son of Mark." It almost made me weep. Christ's death on the cross was not only a sacrifice for Jesus. It was also a sacrifice for God, His Father. It would kill me if Dane went through the same thing. I've only known you for 2 weeks, Dane, but I love you. I would do anything to protect you, to save you from pain. But I could not ever do for you what Christ has already done. Even if I am amazing dad (yet to be seen), I could never wipe away your sins. I pray that Larissa and I teach you about God, about Christ's death and its significance. I pray you come to know Him even better and more closely than we do. I have already learned more about love in these 2 weeks with Dane than I thought I would ever learn from anyone besides Larissa. In addition to other types of love I have already known (the love of a child to his parent, the love among friends, the love of a spouse), I have experienced another type of love: the love of a parent for their child. In experiencing this additional manifestation of love, I feel that I am more whole and better understand the love of my parents and the love of God for us.

Tonight was a very somber night. It was filled with pain thinking about Christ on the cross, with awe thinking about what that death on the cross means, and joy thinking about the gift of life that Larissa and I have been given by Christ and also in the form of Dane. It was definitely a Good Friday.