He Died Right into It. (Thankful & extreme thoughts on Good Friday.)


Good Friday. We enter into the darkest place of death. The blackest, most hidden corner of our human souls. The most horrific stories on the earth. But, even still, we enter this story as bystanders—spectators. We watch as one man enters the scope and finality of Death—stretched over history and future—and dies right into it.

Death on a cross—the most humiliating, shameful, the most excruciatingly painful.

Extreme. Death.

This is what he did.

He died into ravaged souls. He died into words that ridicule and diminish. He died into utter shame. He died into pain. He died into the very death of dignity felt by every person stripped naked. The fragility. The nakedness. The vulnerability.

He died into every extreme.

He died into every injustice.

He died into hit after hit after hit.

He died into darkness that chews up light and life.

He died into rejection. Swallowed it into his own.

One death, stretching across generations and into the most remote corners of our human story. Reaching into the most broken corners of my own life and of humanity at Large.

He hung right into the darkness and died there.

The hell of suffering and pain, abandonment, humiliation.

Lonely. Lonely. Alone.

Arms stretched across and over and into the hellest of places, in me and on the earth.

He died into my greed. He died into my apathy—the bystander who watches as Life slips away in front of me.

He died right into my own death. He died right into Death’s open jaws, so eager to engulf everything, everyone, anything.

He died.

And then he waited there—for me, for us—on the other side of those three days.

  • http://www.jimmymcphee.blogspot.com Jimmy

    I’ve found this the most insightful and moving piece I’ve read over Easter.

  • http://www.idelette.com idelette

    Wow, Jimmy. Thank you so much for your words. Humbled. So thankful … Bless you right back.