A Good Friday prayer

“For you know that you were redeemed from your empty way of life inherited from your ancestors, not with perishable things like silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of an unblemished and spotless lamb.” (1 Peter 1:18–19)

Good Friday is a day of mixed emotions for me.  There’s a sense of thankfulness and deep gratitude for what Jesus has done on my behalf, but there is also a sense of horror and shame over the fact that it was my sin that put him there.  He was innocent – I am the guilty one.  He did nothing to incite God’s wrath.  I am the one who deserved to die, not he.

I took some time to read over the accounts of Jesus’ trial and crucifixion today.  I was awed by his silence, serenity and self-control before his accusers, as they railed one charge after another at him.  I was aghast by their treatment of him.  It’s horrific the way human beings can treat fellow human beings, isn’t it?  We are seeing much of that in front of our eyes with the war in Ukraine.  But to treat one so lovely, so wonderful and so innocent is a cruel crime indeed. 

And then, as the time of his death draws near, darkness descends over the whole land as divine judgment falls on the innocent one and he utters that hear-rendering cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  That forsaking was for us, so that we might be redeemed and set free. 

There’s a wonderful collection of puritan prayers called The Valley of Vision.  One of them is called “The Precious Blood.”  I found it helpful is speaking back to the Lord all that I was thinking and feeling.  You might find it helpful as well. 

BLESSED LORD JESUS,
 
Before thy cross I kneel and see
the heinousness of my sin,
my iniquity that caused thee to be ‘made a curse’,
the evil that excites the severity of divine wrath.
 
Show me the enormity of my guilt by the crown of thorns,
the pierced hands and feet,
the bruised body, the dying cries.
 
Thy blood is the blood of incarnate God,
its worth infinite,
its value beyond all thought.
Infinite must be the evil and guilt that demands such a price.
 
Sin is my malady, my monster, my foe, my viper,
born in my birth,
alive in my life,
strong in my character,
dominating my faculties,
following me as a shadow,
intermingling with my every thought,
my chain that holds me captive in the empire of my soul.
 
Sinner that I am, why should the sun give me light,
the air supply breath,
the earth bear my tread,
its fruits nourish me,
its creatures subserve my ends?
 
Yet thy compassions yearn over me,
thy heart hastens to my rescue,
thy love endured my curse,
thy mercy bore my deserved stripes.
 
Let me walk humbly in the lowest depths of humiliation,
bathed in thy blood, tender of conscience,
triumphing gloriously as an heir of salvation.