I’m standing in my attic behind about 25 or 30 people who have gathered for a big-time music show. My son’s current band–I don’t even know what they call themselves–played a handful of tunes. Then came the guy from Kentucky who fiddles and picks banjo and guitar while singing 19th century tunes. Next came 6’10”, the very tall singer from Flatfoot 56 and his wife doing Irish folky songs. And right now, Nate Allen–I don’t think he’s Destroy Nate Allen anymore–is singing in his inimitable way.
So when I say that I’m standing there, I’m really not. I’m two levels of the spiral staircase down in my office, typing on my computer. I can hear Nate singing. His wife is here chasing after their daughter. The audience upstairs includes friends and complete strangers.
As I stood there earlier, looking at the marvelous space that God led us to buy, looking at the people whose lives we’ve been able to intersect, I just had a moment. God is good, on Good Friday and all the other times as well.
We’ve all talked about Good Friday and what a strange name that is for the day. What’s good about a day when the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe was murdered by a bunch of power-grasping pretenders? And as I stood there, I realized that the events of this evening give me an answer. What’s good about this Friday is that the death of Christ, coupled with the coming resurrection, allows young married couples and young singles, a single mom, a painfully married woman, and a dozen other people–kids included–to come together in a 110-year-old barn loft to share music that lifts people up and recognizes the primacy God.
Nate’s still singing. His current offering is in the form of a prayer. It’s straight-forward and a bit tongue-in-cheek. My wife is up there digging it; I’m in the dungeon typing. And we’re still together.
What’s so good about Good Friday? I have an answer.