O Christ, our crucified King, Man of Sorrows, Lamb without blemish,
On this solemn Friday, we gather in the shadow of Your cross,
a place where justice and mercy met,
where wrath was poured out and grace overflowed,
where love was not spoken, but shown: pierced and bleeding.
"But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him,
and by His wounds we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)
You didn’t stumble into this suffering.
You chose it.
You walked the road of death with full knowledge, and yet, with full love.
This was no accident.
This was the plan,
the Lamb slain before the foundations of the world.
Christ’s death is the hinge of history, the hope of the world, and the heartbeat of the church.
And so, Lord, we come to the foot of the cross,
not with offerings in our hands,
but with ashes on our heads,
hearts undone by grace,
minds bowed under the weight of glory.
"It is finished." (John 19:30)
Not a cry of defeat but of triumph.
You didn’t whisper it.
You declared it.
Sin was silenced.
Hell was humbled.
Death was disarmed.
The cross was not a tragic failure; it was a majestic victory disguised as weakness.
We confess, Lord:
It was our sins that made the cross necessary.
Our pride, our self-worship, our rebellion.
We are the reason for the nails, the thorns, the spear.
And still You came.
Still You loved.
Still You stayed.
"While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8)
Only at the cross do we see the depth of our sin—
and the greater depth of God's love.
You could have stepped down.
You could have called angels.
You could have let us bear the weight.
But instead, You bore it all.
The physical agony, yes.
But worse still: the silence of the Father.
The turning away.
The cosmic loneliness.
"My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46)
And yet, You stayed.
"How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?” (Psalm 13:1)
But You, Jesus, were truly forgotten,
so we would never be.
You were cast out,
so we might be brought in.
At the cross, Jesus didn’t just feel our pain,
He bore our punishment.
The Lamb did not flinch, though He could have.
Lord, You took our shame,
and clothed us in righteousness.
You took our curse,
and gave us sonship.
You were broken,
so we could be whole.
You were judged,
so we could be justified.
"God made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us,
so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21)
We confess that we are too often forgetful.
We’ve grown numb to the nails.
We sip grace like it cost nothing.
We carry crosses made of foam,
never truly dying to ourselves.
But today, Lord,
today, we remember.
Today, we weep.
Today, we bow low.
We are, as David said,
"Poor and needy, yet the Lord thinks upon me.” (Psalm 40:17)
And that thought brought You to Calvary.
Lord, may we live lives worthy of Your sacrifice,
not in perfection, but in pursuit.
Not by merit, but by mercy.
Let Your blood not be a casual covering,
but the banner over everything we are.
The cross is the blazing lighthouse of God's love,
sending out its beams of hope to the darkest souls.
So on this Good Friday, we do not rush to Sunday.
We sit here beneath the weight,
beneath the wood,
beneath the wounds.
Because we know:
Before the resurrection, there was the crucifixion.
And without the cross, there is no crown.
We bring You our brokenness,
our guilt,
our gratitude.
We say:
Thank You, Lord Jesus,
for dying our death,
for carrying our cross,
for loving us to the end.
You are our Redeemer,
our Shepherd,
our Savior.
You are the Crucified King,
and we adore You.
"Worthy is the Lamb who was slain." (Revelation 5:12)
We remember.
We repent.
We rejoice.
In Your precious, powerful, nail-pierced hands, feet, and side,
Jesus the Christ, the true Lamb of God.
Amen.