Tag Archives: Good Friday

In His Steps

Second Chances

ResurrectionI was never the one who went away to vacations during Holy Week. Ever since I could remember, I was always at home. Our families had specific Holy Week traditions: mass on Holy Thursday, Bisita Iglesia ((Doing stations of the cross by visiting 14 churches)) during Good Friday followed by lunch, then we stay at home for the next days until we go to Easter Sunday mass.

Ever since I graduated from college, I’ve made Good Friday afternoon a time to pray on my own. I usually stay in my room, read, and then wait for 3:00 pm. Once the time comes, I open up my Bible, pray and reflect on Jesus’ sacrifice. I usually end up crying when I try to comprehend how much it all meant and cost. Suffice to say, after a very inspiring Palm Sunday mass, I found myself praying for a meaningful and different Holy Week this year. Other than the idea of a long vacation from work, I was also looking forward to a serious Good Friday prayer time.

It’s amazing how easy I forget the things I pray for, especially when they’re not prayers of intention. :)

I didn’t exactly forget my prayer last week actually. But I held on and was anxious to follow the schedule I set for myself last Friday: Bisita Iglesia, then lunch and my 3:00 pm prayer time. I had my readings ready, my Holy Week playlist ready, my journal and a couple of hankies (because I know I was going to be crying) and even an idea of a text message to send to friends after it. It was my personal time with God to praise and thank Him for giving Jesus to us, and there was nothing else I wanted to do more than that.

Sounds good, doesn’t it? Holy, even.

But of course, God had other plans.
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In His Steps

If I Were There

While I was on a long and quite different Good Friday yesterday (more to this on a later post), I suddenly wondered (for the nth time in the my entire life): how did the people who knew Jesus back then felt during this very day?

I try to put myself in the crowds. If I were present in that time, where would I be? Would I be one of Jesus’ followers? Or would I be one of the people shouting for His crucifixion? Would I even care at all?

If I were one of Jesus’ followers, and He asked me to come with Him to Gethsemane, would I stay awake for Him while He prayed? (I’m afraid I kind of know what the answer to this question is. :( )

If I followed Him when He was taken, and I was asked the same questions that Peter was asked, how would I have answered? Would I tell them the truth even if it meant I could die too, or would I answer like Peter, even after swearing my loyalty to Jesus?

If I didn’t follow Him there, would I have followed Him the way John did as Jesus walked to Calvary? Would I have stood at the foot of the cross, heart breaking at the sight of my friend who is being punished unjustly before my eyes? Would I have stood beside Mary as she cried for her only Son?

Or would I have hid in the upper room, scared to be found and connected with Him, confused on why all these is happening?

If I were one of the people in the crowds and the guards asked me to help Jesus to carry His cross just as how Simon was asked, would I have said yes, too? Or would I pretend it wasn’t me they were calling and hide instead? Would I have said an excuse just so I wouldn’t have to accept the responsibility?

If I were one of His followers back then, one of the women who helped bury Jesus in the tomb, how would I have felt after doing so? Would there be a sense of hopelessness, the feeling of “What now?” after? What would happen now? I believed in Him, but He’s in the tomb, and it is over. How do I go back to the way it was before?

Why did He have to die?

Or…would I be a Judas Iscariot, selling Him out and then being so wracked with guilt afterwards that I couldn’t ask for forgiveness? Would I be so blind and crazed that I would decide to just end it all myself by tying a rope around my neck and hanging on a tree?

Or would I even really care about all that happened at all?