A Devotion for Good Friday Morning
To all the beloved of God, called to be saints, grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Yeshua the Messiah. I write not to stir emotion, but to awaken your spirit. This day—this sacred Friday—is not to be passed over lightly. For today we remember the sufferings of our Lord, not as mere observers, but as those who have been crucified with Him. Let every breath of this day be holy, and every moment a meditation on His love.
Before the rooster crowed, He was already despised.
The night had swallowed the Son of Man, but He did not resist. Betrayed by a kiss, arrested like a criminal, and abandoned by those He called friends, Yeshua was led away to stand before corrupt men. False witnesses surrounded Him like jackals. He was struck in the face, spat upon, and mocked. Yet the Word says, “He did not revile in return” (1 Peter 2:23, NASB). He endured it with divine restraint—for our sake.
And Peter—our brother in weakness—denied Him. Three times, and the rooster crowed. But Yeshua’s eyes found him through the dark. Even in betrayal, there was compassion.
By morning, He was judged by men, but already condemned by sin.
The council convened at dawn. Their hearts were hardened. “Are You the Son of God?” they demanded. “You say that I am,” He replied (Luke 22:70, NASB). For this they sent Him to Pilate, though the governor found no fault in Him. Pilate, desiring to escape the weight of truth, passed Him to Herod, who clothed Him in scorn and returned Him.
Barabbas was chosen. The guilty set free, the Innocent condemned. Yet we know this mystery: it pleased the Father to crush Him (Isaiah 53:10, NASB), for in His wounds we are made whole.
By the third hour (9:00 AM), He was lifted up between two criminals.
They scourged Him until His flesh hung like ribbons. They crowned Him with thorns, clothed Him in mockery, and bowed in cruel jest. And then they led Him out to Golgotha, the Place of the Skull. Simon of Cyrene was pressed into service, but the weight of the cross was always His.
At the hill, they drove the nails. O saints, do not become numb to this: the hands that healed the sick were pierced. The feet that walked upon water were fastened with iron to wood. He was numbered with the transgressors—one on His right, one on His left.
And what did He cry out? “Father, forgive them…” (Luke 23:34, NASB). While bleeding, He interceded. While mocked, He offered mercy. He bore not only pain, but the full curse of sin.
From the sixth hour to the ninth (12:00–3:00 PM), darkness covered the land.
It was as if creation itself could no longer behold the agony of its Creator. The sun hid its face, and the earth trembled under the weight of divine judgment. For three hours, He hung—suffocating, bleeding, rejected.
And at the ninth hour, He cried aloud, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Mark 15:34, NASB). This was no cry of doubt, but the fulfillment of Psalm 22. The sin of the world was upon Him, and the Father, in holy justice, turned His face away.
He who knew no sin became sin, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him (2 Corinthians 5:21, NASB).
And then, He gave up His spirit.
He was not murdered; He surrendered. With one final cry—“It is finished!”—He bowed His head and breathed His last (John 19:30). The veil in the temple tore from top to bottom. Heaven declared: the way to God has been opened.
The earth quaked. Tombs broke open. Even the centurion confessed, “Truly this was the Son of God” (Matthew 27:54, NASB).
And you, O beloved—will you not confess the same?
This is your devotion for Good Friday morning.
Not merely to feel sorrow, but to share in His death. “I have been crucified with Christ,” Paul declares, “and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20, NASB). This day demands more than remembrance—it calls for surrender.
Today, let your heart be pierced anew. Let the world lose its grip on you. Let every convenience and comfort fall away before the cross. For He did not spare Himself. And now, He calls you to take up your cross and follow.
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The sky grew still, the sun withdrew,
The earth in silence mourned;
The Lamb of God, so pure, so true,
By cruel nails was torn.
Yet in that death, a mercy flowed—
A crimson, cleansing stream;
His final breath the veil unsewed,
And woke me from my dream.
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Prayer
Lord Yeshua, I behold You this morning—not from a distance, but from the foot of the cross.
You died for me while I was still a sinner. You held nothing back.
Let me hold nothing back in return.
Teach me to die to myself, that I may live unto You.
Let the weight of Your sacrifice never grow light in my memory.
And let this day be holy to me, as it is holy to You.
You are worthy, O Lamb of God—worthy of my love, my life, and my all.
Amen.
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