Waiting for the sound

I love good Friday. I don't have it off and unlike most of my life, I won't be in church this afternoon. Don't let that make you think that I won't be observing and celebrating what today is. It has been to me a quiet day, reflective and sober. Tears have already come this morning at the thought of what Jesus suffered for me.


Before I got out of bed this morning, I was meditating to the sound of raindrops on my roof. Have you noticed it often rains on Good Friday? The earth, I think, cries at the memory of the moment that the feet of Jesus were lifted away from its soil and onto the cross.


Today I find myself listening...for the sound of tearing fabric.





And behold, the veil of the temple was rent in two from top to bottom; and the earth did quake and the rocks rent...Matthew 27:51





In Exodus God gave instruction in the wilderness for his temple so that the people could worship during their 40 years of looking for the Promised Land. In Second Chronicles King Solomon, the son of David built the temple his father had dreamt of. It was to be a permanent dwelling place for the Spirit of God and for the ark of the covenant David had returned to Israel after generations of loss but was not permitted by the Lord to build the temple because he was a soldier and had blood on his hands. The temple of David's son followed the template of the tabernacle in that the curtain was there, a place beyond which man could not step for fear of being in the presence of God. Sacrifices were required to make worshipers clean enough to be heard. Bells were sewn to the hem of the priest's garment so that if he went beyond the veil unworthily and was struck down by God, the silence of the bells would signal those on the other side to pull his body out. All of this was a way for us to learn over hundreds and hundreds of years how holy a God we serve and how impossible it is to be completely holy ourselves despite adherence to every rule we follow.


Good Friday is the day we memorialize Christ's death on the cross and we realize this was the moment in time that our sins were taken by him allowing us a chance for heaven. For me, it is about the sound of the veil tearing.


Not the sound of the door into heaven opening.


Not the sound of the keys to hell dropping.


Not the sound of satan screaming.


The sound of God himself finally tearing down the wall between himself and us. With his own hands, he didn't invite us into heaven...he invited us into fellowship. The sound of the tearing means that during my darkest nights I have laid in my bed crying out to God and he heard me. It means this morning the Lord and I spent time together listening to the earth cry. It means my worship in the car all by myself is heard in heaven.


Wherever you happen to be this Good Friday, take a moment to listen for the sound of tearing fabric.