On Good Friday

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Let us not forget today his walk to the top of the hill. The fear and the anguish. The pain and the terror. The nails. The splintered wood. The thorns. The spear. The blood.

Let us not forget the sin. Our sin, becoming his sin. For us.

Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?

The curtain of the temple was torn in two. What happened throughout the world when the sun was darkened? Did rabbits tremble, dogs howl, horses cower? Did all the creatures of the ocean look up to the sky, through the water, in fearful wonder? The disciples wept. Jesus' followers believed that all had been lost. Their Lord, their savior, their precious, beloved Messiah was dead. And dead, as they all knew, was dead.

With him died their hope for new life, for revolution, for peace, for safety and security. He was their friend, their teacher, their leader, their guide. He died, and on his way to death they denied him, ran from him, hid from those who came for him.

Sometimes it causes me to tremble.