Every year on the Friday before Easter, Christians around the world observe Good Friday. And every year, someone asks the question — whether out loud or quietly in the back of their mind — how can we call this day good?
It's a fair question. On this day, we remember that an innocent man, the Son of God, was flogged within inches of his life, stripped of his clothing, nailed through his hands and feet to two pieces of wood, lifted before a mocking crowd, and left to die in agony. We remember that he cried out from that cross — "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" We remember the earth shaking and the sky going dark.
Good Friday? How can that be good?
There is an answer to the question, though. One that Christians have understood for 2000 years. This day is not called good because of what men did to Jesus.
It is called good because of who God is. The goodness is not in the suffering. The goodness is in the God who chose to go through it for you.
The Apostle John opens his Gospel with one of the most staggering declarations ever written: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made" (John 1:1–3).
Let's stop there for a moment. The one who spoke galaxies into existence. The one through whom every mountain was raised, every ocean filled, every atom set into motion — that is the one John is writing about.
And then John says this: "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth" (John 1:14).
The eternal Son of God put on skin. He took on hunger and thirst, and weariness. He wept at a graveside. He touched lepers. He ate with sinners. And then — on a Friday that the world would call anything but good — he was broken.
Broken on our behalf.
Now let me ask you something. You have heard of religions that demand sacrifice. You have heard of belief systems that tell you to prove your devotion through suffering, through service, through striving — that command you to earn your way, or die trying.
But let me ask you this: what other religion offers you a God who dies for you?
Not a God who calls you to die for him. Not a system that demands you earn what it will never quite give you. Not a distant deity who watches from heaven as you try to be good enough. But a God who looks at the gap between your sin and His holiness, a gap you could never cross on your own — and crosses it Himself.
That is what Good Friday is.
The Son of God, who had every right to call down angels, who had never sinned, who owed us nothing, opened his arms on that cross and absorbed everything our sin deserved. He took the wrath. He took the separation. He took the curse.
And then — with the last breath left in his broken body — he said it. Three words that shook history and changed eternity: "It is finished."
Not "I am finished." Not a cry of defeat. Not the last gasp of a failed movement. It is finished. Tetelestai is the Greek word. It was a term used in the ancient world to mark a debt as paid in full.
The punishment you deserved? Finished. The record of your sin? Cancelled. The wall between you and God? Torn down from top to bottom.
Finished.
But here is what Good Friday cannot be told without: Sunday is coming.
The John who wrote that the Word became flesh also wrote this, in the final book of Scripture, about the one who died on that cross. He wrote it after seeing a revelation of the future of the same Jesus, now risen, and who is coming back again:
"He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God. And the armies of heaven, arrayed in fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron. He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords" (Revelation 19:13–16).
The one who was laid in a borrowed tomb is the King of kings. The one who wore a crown of thorns is coming back wearing a crown no man can remove. The one who was mocked and beaten and killed is the one before whom every knee will bow and every tongue will confess.
He was broken on a Friday. He rose on a Sunday. And he is coming again.
That is the Gospel. That is the good news that makes Good Friday good.
If you have never placed your faith in Jesus Christ — not in religious works, not in your own goodness, not in your best efforts, but in Him — then I want you to know that what he accomplished on that cross was accomplished for you.
The payment was made. The door is open.
And if you do know Him, if you have already confessed that Jesus is Lord and believed that God raised him from the dead, then let this Friday remind you of what you have been given.
You were not called to earn what Christ already paid for. You were not asked to perform for a God who stands with his arms crossed. You were ransomed by a God who opened his arms on a cross. And we now have the privilege of living for Him.
It is finished, friend. That is why we call it Good.
