Church lights dark. Put on the black. Trudge in sorrow, from 7-9pm. On Friday. Acting the part, playing the game. Jesus has died. This year. Again?
A once-a-year reenactment of something you need to feel. Sin, stabbing your heart. Sorrow, slowing your pace. Punishment, pointing its finger. Death, brushing your cheek. Tonight is your Good Friday, scheduled mourning.
You let it happen, this darkest of nights. You lose yourself for a moment, in failure and regret. You feel the tears and cries, and the blood of another. It is focused. In the moment. It is good.
Then, you drive home. Eat leftover pizza. Click on the Netflix while scrolling the screens. That was nice. You remembered. And now it’s back to reality.
Pretending. Good Friday. Pretending you’re sad. Pretending the story. Pretending He’s dead.
House lights dark. Covering up the shame. Real pain. Betrayal. Can’t sleep again. On Tuesday. But this is not an act. Disappointed. Destroyed. Again.
You’re being the fool. Sin, choking your breath. Sorrow, closing your mind. Punishment, beating you back. Death, twisting your joints. Today, you didn’t want to be here. And here you are.
What’s wrong with you? For letting this happen. How many have you hurt and failed? How long have you ignored what was real? You feel yourself. It is not good.
You can’t drive far enough. You can’t fill up your empty. You can’t numb your sensations forever. You will remember. This is your reality.
Pretending. You’re fine. Pretending you’re stable. Pretending a story. Pretending for whom?
Stop Pretending.
Your many deaths haunting. That is your reality. You feel pain and sorrow that annoy during lunch breaks. Stop pretending that they are not there.
A death once died. That is your reality. He builds a new story; not a pause, stop, rewind. Stop pretending that He’s not there.