These are good muffins, I congratulate myself. “Mmmm. Thanks, Mom!” Daughter #1 mumbles with crumbs on the sides of her mouth.
That book is good.
“Good job!” I say to the little one feeding the dogs.
Her papers scatter out of the backpack, and she says, “Good grief!”
“He is my good cousin,” Daughter #3 says with a twinkle in her eye.
Am I a good writer? I wonder.
“He is a good husband,” Mom states as I tell her about the support I receive.
You are a good reader.
The rash covers her arms in raised hotness, and I exclaim, “Goodness!”
My husband scratches Dot behind the ears murmuring, “That’s a good dog.”
We use this word daily. Good. What is it? We use good in different ways. Plus if you type it over and over, it starts to look really weird.
What kind of good is Good Friday? It is a different good, I think. I don’t know if I always recognize goodness. It might not be comfortable or feel nice. It might be hard or sad or sorrowful. This day is that kind of good.
“Gracious is the LORD and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The LORD watches over the innocent;
I was brought very low, and he helped me. Turn again to your rest, O my soul,
for the LORD has treated you well. For you have rescued my life from death,
my eyes from tears, and my feet from stumbling. I will walk in the presence of the LORD
in the land of the living.” Psalm 116:5-9
Open my eyes, Lord Jesus and let me see your goodness. All of your goodness. Today your goodness is hard to face. You suffered and died. You are not easy to see or to look at. You are Good. Open my eyes. Change my expectations for life, feelings, comfort. Show me your way, O Lord. Teach me your path, Holy One. Lead me in Truth, the Source of Salvation. I wait for You. Amen.