Good Friday II

Earlier today, I posted a link to an article about CACO's. That started me thinking. The service I attended this evening got me thinking further.

What must it have felt like to be a follower of Jesus, and then to find out that He died? And I'm not just talking about his disciples. The boy whose lunch fed the five thousand. The leper who was healed of his leprosy. The woman at the well. Lazarus. The woman with the blood disorder. All of these people had been profoundly affected by Jesus. It must have been a kick in the stomach for many of these people when they discovered that He had died.

I think the death that had the most profound impact on me was the death of my grandmother. I was in college at the time. I don't remember who called me or when I found out. I do remember walking along Creekside Drive and crying. The woman who always made sure there were Pop-Tarts in the house. The woman who cooked us chicken and rice and beans. The woman who would always give us some change to put in the offering plate when we attended Sunday services with her. The woman who knew it was a treat for us to go see a movie and would make a point to take us as much as possible. Gone.

But the memories remain. And something elwe. I would like to believe that her generosity inspired me. That I was able to adopt some of her practices and spread some love. And then I wonder back to 33 AD. And I imagine that Christ's death galvanized people. People who believed that He was bigger than this world. And who refused to let the Gospel die out. People knew...