Good Friday

A song for you this week. Unless we see our sin, there can be no joy.

The song you just listened to right above this text is a musical setting, written by my dad, of Christina Rosetti’s poem, “Good Friday.” My husband is on the piano and I am singing.

This week, we’ll remember His death for our sins. At least, we’ll try to remember it among the hustle and distractions of life.

Am I a stone and not a sheep

That I can stand, oh Christ,

Beneath thy cross,

To number, drop by drop, thy blood’s slow loss, and yet not weep?

Not so those women loved,

Who with exceeding grief lamented thee.

Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly.

Not so the thief was moved.

Not so the sun and moon,

Which hid their faces in a starless sky.

A horror of great darkness at full noon.

I, only I.

Yet give not o’er,

But seek thy sheep

True shepherd of the flock

Greater than Moses, turn and look once more

And smite a rock.

I don’t have much to say about this song. The poem is self-explanatory. But I will say, that rather than encouraging maudlin tears and self-indulgent emotions over a tragic scene, I think the point of this poem goes deeper. I think the author was begging God to smite her hard heart over the sins that put Christ on the cross.

If not for my sin and yours, He would not have had to leave His place in glory and come down lower than the creator of the universe would ever go—an embryo in a young woman’s womb—something so small and insignificant. (Something women now cavalierly throw away at the rate of hundreds, perhaps, thousands a day in sacrifice to their ambition or convenience.) What followed? Birth, childhood, poverty, doing nothing but good in an inevitable march to a death so purposefully cruel it defies contemplation.

But we think we’re very good. Even though we know we aren’t. Deep down, we know. We forget what we’ve done and what it cost. And without that, who can know His love? And without His love, who can know joy?

So, show us our sin in all its ugliness, Father. Then show us your Son. And then, we can be glad.

Housekeeping

The next chapter of The Pursuit of Elizabeth Millhouse will go out to paid subscribers as usual on Wednesday morning at 7:00 AM. Please consider upgrading from free to paid to help me save up to republish the novel!

I hope you have a beautiful Easter, everyone! I may, possibly, perhaps, send out my weekly email on Sunday in honor of the day rather than Monday…but I haven’t decided yet. I guess you’ll find out.

That’s all for now. Until next time, folks…

For the circle is perfect and infinite in its nature; but it is fixed for ever in its size; it can never be larger or smaller. But the cross, though it has at its head a collision and a contradiction, can extend its four arms for ever without altering its shape. Because it has a paradox in its center it can grow without changing. The circle returns upon itself and is bound. The cross opens its arms to the four winds; it is a signpost for free travelers. ~ Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton