A Good Friday Conversation
By Jill Briscoe
“Easter comes around as quickly as Christmas, Lord, or so it seems,” I murmured as I slipped into a back pew.
“I’m glad so many people come to Good Friday services. I’m glad I can be here.” Silence.
“I’m trying to concentrate Lord, to focus on what it’s all about.”
It’s hard for you when you’re so worried about your son,” He said simply.
I tried and tried to keep my mind on the service, but at the end of the day there I was worrying myself into a state. The last hymn was announced and I gave a guilty start.
“Lord, forgive me,” I cried in the deep chamber of my soul. “I feel terrible. I couldn’t concentrate. In fact, I may as well not have been there. You see my son is in trouble, he’s dying inside.”
Then I heard sweet understanding saying to my soul, “When My Son was dying I couldn’t think about anything else either, so I understand, and My Son was dying on the inside and the outside!”
Then I sat quietly till all the people left the sanctuary and thought about the day His Son came home all bloodied and beaten up, and I wept. “I’m sorry Father, I’m so sorry Father, for my part. Forgive me.”
— Jill Briscoe, as read by the author on “The Steps of My Soul” CD with Stephanie Seefeldt, as heard by me on my way home from Indianapolis last week.