Let me tell you about Good Friday.
Today, it feels like anything but good.
In fact, it feels mostly terrible. It feels heavy. It feels full of injustice.
It feels littered with shame.
Today is the day where we, as Christians, live in the feelings of grief. Where we acknowledge just how broken humanity is. Where we have to own our messiness. Today, Christ is dead and hope feels lost.
But I've got to be honest, this year, "good" feels extra weighty.
A few hours ago, I helped clean out a Tent City near our building because neighbors of privilege, including one of our city's councilmen, were tired of seeing "the mess on their walking path."
The "mess."
We've dissolved as a society to seeing our vulnerable neighbors not as people, but as the "mess" that needs to be cleaned up. The police tasked with emptying the city were kind and filled with their own sense of grief and remorse. They simply had to do the hard thing. In this world that's being wrecked by Covid-19, our neighbors experiencing homelessness are the unsuspecting victims of embedded bias, misplaced expectations, and the absence of grace.
Good Friday doesn't feel good.
Good Friday looks like having your tent, your make-shift home, stripped away from you, to be left sitting with nothing, waiting.
Easter must come. And resurrection must be real. thedwellingws.org