Christ has come to make every last aspect of your life the object of his eternal, never-ending, always transitive grace.

Easter must be seen in light of the cross. It must never overshadow Good Friday. They are a packaged deal!

On Good Friday, poetic justice is satisfied. Poetic mercy is all which remains.

What grace is this? It’s grace from Christ, who often seizes us when we least expect it, even through the hands of His enemies.

You can’t bear your own sins, to say nothing of getting rid of them.

Good Friday encompasses the silence of God, even as it focuses on our salvation in the cross of Christ.

Golgotha is the point where not only Mary and John’s family life assumed a new character, but it is the point of orientation for all human community that uses the cross to straighten out the lives of individuals turned in upon themselves.

The cross does not remain on a hill far away. It pursues us into the valleys, the ravines, the crevices in which we get trapped as we wander in search of a fixed point for our lives.

Jesus wouldn't allow religious people to determine his identity, define his mission, or put him in a safe, predictable religious box.

Jesus reminds us of God’s mercy to the helpless, snakebitten children of Israel, then connects that story to him being lifted up on a cross to rescue an entire human race that is snakebitten by sin.

Many Christians are walking on eggshells, living as if we are sinners in the hands of an angry God. Which begs the question: Is he? Is God angry with us?