Good Friday.

With the kiddos at Grandma's house and my husband fast asleep in a post-Good-Friday-coma, I have found myself in a nearly unthinkable position: alone in a quiet house! Just me, my trusty computer, and the strongest cup of coffee I know how to brew. Alone to think and process Good Friday.

When you marry someone who works at a church, you are also marrying into a family that does Easter quite differently. For us, the week of Good Friday and Easter is hectic, intense, busy, and EXCITING. Joel and I see little of each other in those days leading up to the believer's most anticipated days of the year. So much preparation goes into creating a Good Friday service for our church and my husband plays a big role in that.

This year was no different. There were songs, videos, monologues, even a rap. Special lighting created an unsettling atmosphere that perfectly fit the tone of the service  The uneasiness in the sanctuary was palpable. I left last night with the same feelings as I have every Good Friday service I've been to at Harvest: It was my sin that nailed Jesus to the cross. It was my jealously that placed the crown of thorns on his head. It was my unforgiveness and pride that mocked him. My anger. My doubt. My selfishness. My sin crucified my Lord.

Praise God the story doesn't end with Good Friday. Death could not hold him. The battle was fought and WON. My Lord is risen.

I cannot wait for Easter.