As Lent goes by and we focus on Christ’s journey to the cross, several people have suggested that we all get together and watch the movie The Passion of the Christ on Good Friday. I want to watch it, but I know that I can’t. I can’t watch as Christ is betrayed because I know that I have betrayed him. I can’t watch as he is beaten because I know that he was beaten for my sins. I can’t watch as his hands and feet were nailed to the cross. I can’t watch as they mocked him while his followers stood by quietly because I know I have sometimes been in a crowd where he was mocked and said nothing. Just thinking about watching it brings tears to my eyes.

My family in Louisiana has been one where the tears flow easily. Two of my uncles who influenced my spiritual growth often cried when they talked about our Lord. My uncle Edwin laughed and joked easily, but when the conversation turned to our Lord, tears would come to his eyes. My Uncle Loma was a barber in a small Louisiana town, but when people came in for a haircut, they often heard about how good our God is as tears flowed down his cheeks. I never realized that men weren’t supposed to cry. The men I loved did.

Good Friday is a time for tears and grief as we remember the great cost of our salvation to the Holy One of Israel who knew no sin of his own. It was for our sins that he suffered and died. But the joy of Easter is that we are not left with our sorrow and grief. As Tony Campalo, a great American Baptist teacher and preacher, said in his famous sermon, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s Coming.” God will wipe away every tear with the loud acclamation, Hallelujah! HE IS RISEN!