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.

“Yes.”

“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.

“Yes.” 

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.”

“Done.”

— 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.