Nails on a Cross

Today is Good Friday.  I think that today should be celebrated just as much as Sunday because the impact of Jesus' obediance in His life and death is the reason why I live and celebrate life.  It's hard for me to think that 2000 years ago on this day Jesus was suffering for my sin.  He was being beaten, spit on, falsely accused, and hung on a cross for me.  I often think that if I would have been the only one with sin on this earth, I would have been the lone woman standing at the 3 crosses screaming "Crucify Him" and nailing those nails into His hands and feet.  And He would have looked at me with loving, forgiving eyes and would have died just for me.  It's hard for me that today is named Good Friday.  Today is a painful day for me.  I know that Jesus was dying, thinking of me, loving me and hoping that one day I would see that love.

So on that solemn note, at the encouragement of my mentor, our family did an activity that begins a yearly tradition:  We made a cross out of scrap wood and nailed nails into it.  Each of us, the knowledge of our sin and one nail each. I will say that putting the cross together was more difficult than putting my lone nail into the wood.  The fact that I had to put those 2 pieces of wood together was so hard.  It wasn't an option.  It had to be done.  It made me realize that the cross is written into our lives and it can't ever be taken out.  It is there for good.  And what Jesus did is there for good.  Maybe that's why it's called Good Friday.