Good Friday—thank God that we have the courage to place this date on the church schedule—calendars into our soul to remind us, to force us, to acknowledge that ALL we know, as mortals, ends. This is the truth . . . dirt will be shoveled into the earth’s gaping wound where your coffin will be lowered. This is the truth . . . someone you’ll never meet at the Social Security Administration tags your name, digitally shifting it from a file for the living to a file for the deceased. The dearly departed don’t complain.
How dare we treat any day, any person, any moment casually.
Yes, of course we’ll continue to ignore people and opportunities. I know that. You know that. The mortgage must be paid. The boss makes demands. We should’ve taken a nap. The kid has to get to soccer practice. But on this day, which will mostly be like other days, claim Good Friday’s truth about forever.
God does promise to never stop loving us.
But we have lovers and children and strangers who cannot wait until tomorrow to hear how much we love them today.