By Anna Palfreeman
It was late. I had just finished dinner at a lovely little bistro in the old town of Nice, France. I was there with my sisters, my mom, and my sweet 8 month old daughter Cassidy. It was time for Cassidy to go to sleep so I walked through the cobblestone streets towards our Airbnb by myself. It was Good Friday. I was in Nice for an uncharacteristic ladies trip with my family. Our week had been full of delicious food, beautiful flowers, and idyllic architecture. But this day felt different. This was the day that Jesus died. Something felt off and unsatisfying to vacation through that week without taking the time to meditate on the very pinnacle of my faith.
As I walked down the streets with my baby snug in her baby carrier, I was feeling sad that I wouldn’t get to attend a Good Friday or Easter service that year. But then, I walked past something that took my breath away. In Nice, the churches are nestled right next to the restaurants and shops. The outside looks unassuming just like a small storefront. But when you walk in, you see a beautifully ornate small cathedral. I walked past one of these churches and stopped in my tracks. I walked in and saw candles lining the walkways. There were paintings along the walls and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The only word I could think of to describe it was “sacred”. The church felt both somber and beautiful. It invited me to lift my eyes up and to worship. I lit a candle, knelt in one of the pews, and prayed. I hugged my baby girl, prayed over her, and walked back to my Airbnb.
Something about that night has stuck with me since then. Before that Good Friday in Nice, I had only ever experienced a different kind of Good Friday service. In my experience, most of the focus would be on Jesus’ physical suffering that he went through leading up to and on the cross. And the message was that my sin was so bad that it killed Jesus. The purpose of the service was to grieve my sin and pray a prayer of repentance.
Now, to be clear, I do believe my sin is so bad that Jesus had to die for it. That’s one of the foundational truths of Christianity. But when we stop there, we miss the whole picture. The cross is about Jesus’ love—this revolutionary, backwards, upside-down, servant love. Jesus laid down his life out of love. It’s not that I am so bad that it made God die. It is that he chose to substitute himself, though he had never sinned, because he loves his people that much. The result of that is not guilt for me, it is worship.
On the cross, Jesus took the punishment for our sins so that we may have life and have it to the fullest. On the cross, the separation between God and humanity was torn down and God promised to be with his people wherever they would go. On the cross, God showed that he is patient and kind, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. On the cross, God showed how he can remain perfectly holy and blameless while being in and amongst his people who are selfish, prideful, and foolish. Emmanuel. God with us. Hallelujah indeed.
So this Good Friday, I invite you to worship. Feel the weight of the cost of sin. Feel the horror for what Jesus went through. But don’t get stuck there. May your eyes lift up. May it cause your heart to be a bit lighter. May peace replace your anxieties. Because the truth of the gospel is that it’s not about what we can do to make ourselves better. It’s about what Jesus already did.