By @abrokenpastor.

We may have reached 40 of 40 Hope Scrolling posts, but today, known somewhat ironically as Good Friday I offer a bonus, and who knows maybe they’ll be one for Easter too.

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Good Friday is the part of Jesus’ story that’s hardest to sit with. It’s the part filled with silence, grief, and questions that don’t always have easy answers. It’s the day love looked like loss—when hope seemed buried under the weight of sorrow.

But perhaps that’s why this day matters so much.

Good Friday reminds us that even the strongest love sometimes walks through darkness. That even the most beautiful stories have chapters marked by pain. And that even the divine was not spared the experience of being misunderstood, abandoned, and broken.

For those who believe in the literal crucifixion of Jesus, Good Friday is sacred because it marks the moment when God entered fully into human suffering. It’s a love so deep it didn’t run from pain—it walked into it willingly. And for those who see the story symbolically, the message still resonates: there is profound beauty and meaning in facing suffering with love rather than fear- beauty in brokenness.

This is not a day that asks us to smile through the pain or pretend it doesn’t hurt. It invites us to feel it fully. To sit in the heaviness. To honour what it means to lose. Because in doing so, we remember something essential—that grief and love are often intertwined, and that sorrow can be sacred, too.

One of the most haunting moments of the crucifixion is when Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46, Mark 15:34) In that moment, even Jesus felt the weight of abandonment. He knew what it was to be utterly alone, unheard, unseen.

And that matters.

Because for anyone who has ever felt forsaken—for anyone battling depression, weighed down by grief, or lost in the fog of despair—this story offers something quietly profound: Jesus knows that feeling. He has been there. He has cried those words. And because of that, there is empathy. There is solidarity. There is a God who doesn’t stand at a distance, but enters into our pain with us.

There’s a reason this day isn’t followed immediately by Easter. There’s a Saturday in between. A day of waiting. A day of not knowing how the story ends. Most of us know that feeling well.

Good Friday teaches us that sometimes, we sit in the “not yet.” In the loss, the confusion, the silence. And that’s okay. The story honours that part, too. Sometimes, the most faithful thing we can do is simply hold on and wait.

Even on Good Friday, hope isn’t entirely gone. It’s just quiet. Hidden. Like a seed in the soil, not yet sprouted. But it’s still there. Still alive. Still coming.

So wherever you find yourself today—whether you’re full of faith or full of questions, whether you feel hopeful, heartbroken, or depressed—this story still speaks: Love does not avoid suffering. It walks through it. And in doing so, it leaves a path behind for us to follow.

A path that reminds us: even when it’s Friday, and everything feels lost, Sunday is coming.

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✏️ @abrokenpastor

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📧 If you’re interested in sharing a little hope between 5th March and 17th April 2025, get in touch (abrokenpastor@gmail.com) with your contribution. It can be an article, blog post, artwork, poem, song, photo… there are no rules others than it be your original work and offers a little bit of hope.