Last night they didn’t try to package Jesus into a digestible savior. In the Good Friday service I attended, the space was prepared. Attention was paid. The movements were purposeful. Light and darkness played across the sanctuary. There was little attempt at explanation and what there was was superfluous. The story was told well. Music leaned into the spaces where words fail. Silence even more so.
Holy Week is strange and sensual. It presents us with a drama that resists reduction. Our multiple theories of atonement reveal the struggle to comprehend what it’s all about. So good worship doesn’t try. It just leads us into the story and lets us walk around with all our senses on.
I was grateful for the care that was taken with last night’s service. It respected the shadows and light in Jesus’s life and in my own.
Heartlands 