Good Friday

Today is Good Friday. The song "Were You There..." invariably runs through my head this day each year.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble...
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Last evening I listened to a wonderful sermon on Jesus and Peter. The focus was on Jesus' faithfulness contrasted with Peter's denial. No matter how often we fail him, he cannot and will not fail us.

2 Timothy 2:13
If we are faithless, 
he will remain faithful, 
for he cannot disown himself.

That he died for me, received me into his kingdom, and clothes me with a righteousness that I cannot explain is too much for me to take in, but I am determined to receive it with joy. That like Peter, on Easter Sunday, I would be the one to rush first to the tomb, to go in and see with my own eyes. That like Peter I would have fellowship with the risen Lord when he calls to me (even in my broken state) and says, "come and have breakfast." (John 18:21) That I would say to him, "Lord, you know that I love you," every day, even though I have failed him more than I know.