Good Friday, Wherever You Are

I grew up in a Christian household. Good Friday was a big deal.

We always went to church in the middle of the day–so did just about everyone else in our small Michigan town (or they stayed indoors between noon and 3 pm out of respect).

There was one year, though, when my father and I spent that time cleaning and moving damaged furniture out of an apartment he owned right on Main Street. I was so embarrassed when a few cars went by. I could tell my father was not happy either, but the renters had left it in terrible condition and prospective tenants were coming to look–after church, of course.

I am reminded of this today, as Jonathan and I fly to California. We’ll be going to the airport and boarding during that same time.

Of course, today, fewer people seem to take Good Friday seriously, and even fewer go to church during the traditional noon to 3:00 pm hours. I am sure the airport will be very busy.

I am delighted to be visiting Jonathan’s family (they are mine, too), but I will miss church.

While in the air, I will spend some time in prayer, thanking Jesus for living into and beyond his fear and being so loving.

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