On Good Friday we see the self-emptying love of God fully revealed on the Cross.
©2026 The Rev. Seth Olson
This sermon was preached on Good Friday at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of the message may be found by clicking HERE.
Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your
words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.
Today is Good Friday. And if we’re honest… it doesn’t ever feel very “good.” Not just the story we’ve heard, but the way our World so often resembles Good Friday. Because everywhere we turn, there is news.
Breaking news. Urgent news. Endless news. And so much of it is bad news.
Fear. Violence. Division. Suffering. And sometimes it feels like we are being pulled into the quick sand of despair.
The noted preacher and author Frederick Buechner once said that the Gospel is bad news before it is good news. And maybe that’s why this day matters so much. Because today, we cannot and do not rush to fix anything.
We don’t explain everything away. We don’t jump ahead to Sunday. We stay here. At the cross.
Because the truth is—this isn’t just a story about long ago. It’s a story about what happens when love confronts power. When truth confronts fear. When grace confronts systems that would rather maintain control than be transformed.
And when that happens… things unravel. The disciples run. Peter denies.
The religious leaders compromise. Pilate hesitates. The crowd turns. And Jesus? He stays. He abides. He dwells with us—just like God always does.
For this is what love looks like: Not avoiding suffering. Not explaining it away. But entering it. Remaining in it. Refusing to abandon the world—even when the world abandons him.
And so the question Good Friday asks is not: “Why did this happen?” Not first, anyway. The question is: Where are you, where are we in this story?
Do we run? Do we deny? Do we give in to fear? Do we protect ourselves?
Or…Do we stay?
Because there are some who do. Jesus’ mother stays. The other women stay. The beloved disciple stays. And… they don’t fix anything! They don’t stop the suffering. All they do is stand there, but it is so powerful. For they refuse to look away from the pain of another, the pain of their Teacher, the pain of their Lord.
Sometimes that is the most faithful thing we can do:
Stay with those who suffer.
Stay present in a hurting world.
Stay near the places we would rather avoid.
Because when we do… we begin to see something. Not a solution. But a revelation. That even here—God is not absent. God does not save from a distance. God doesn’t free us from afar. No, God in Christ enters into the messy brokenness of our lives and he stays!
God is here:
In the suffering.
In the silence.
On the cross.
And so today, we do not rush.
We pray.
We watch.
We stay.
Because this…
this is what love looks like.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment