This Is Called Good
What the Crucifixion Reveals About Innocence, Grief, and God’s Willing Descent
It’s amazing what is possible when we embody deep faith.
I’ve seen, experienced, and performed miracles all my life—I just always experienced them as normal things.
The idea of miracles never really occurred much to me, because I expect them. They’re typically just the result of good faith and deeds.
Developing expertise in any area makes one able to perform feats unknown to those without knowledge or experience in it—thus performing miracles.
When you study and live with the ebb and flow of the universe, understanding that there are no absolutes and that reality is malleable, becoming supernatural is a casual affair—a mere byproduct of living.
It’s one thing to hear stories about what supposedly happened in someone else’s life.
It’s another thing entirely to live transformation, transmutation, and transfiguration oneself.
Without genuine appreciation for grief and the patience of fully processing the deepest pain you carry, you cannot know divine suffering, true sacrifice, absolute surrender, nor divine salvation.
Good Friday, today, is one of the most solemn and emotionally charged days in the Christian calendar—especially within Catholicism and high church traditions.
It commemorates the crucifixion and death of Jesus Christ on the hill called Golgotha, outside Jerusalem’s walls.
It is observed on the Friday before Easter Sunday, and it stands as the spiritual and symbolic hinge of Holy Week—the point where sorrow peaks and the veil between life and death tears open.
It is called “Good” not because it was painless, but because through unspeakable suffering, something holy and irrevocable was accomplished.
According to the Gospels:
• After his arrest on Thursday night, Jesus was tried before the Sanhedrin (Jewish religious council), then before Pontius Pilate.
• He was mocked, scourged, crowned with thorns.
• He was forced to carry his cross through the streets of Jerusalem to the site of execution—Golgotha, the “Place of the Skull.”
• He was nailed to the cross between two criminals, and after hours of agony, he uttered his final words:
“Father, forgive them…”
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”
“It is finished.”
At the moment of death, the sky darkened and the earth trembled.
The veil of the Temple tore in two from top to bottom.
This is the death of innocence.
The sacrifice of the sinless.
The willing descent into death for the sake of the world.
And I wonder—How have you experienced being the sacrificial lamb in your history?
What veil fell off for you through that?
Have you fully processed it for yourself—by yourself—yet?
Most people don’t.
That’s why they stay stuck.
In the Catholic tradition, Good Friday is a day of mourning, silence, and reverence.
No Mass is celebrated.
It is the only day of the liturgical year when the altar remains bare, the Eucharist is absent, and the Church enters a communal state of grief.
The observance usually includes:
• The Passion narrative, often chanted or solemnly read from the Gospel of John.
• The Veneration of the Cross, where the faithful approach and kiss, touch, or kneel before a wooden cross in silence.
• Intercessory prayers for the world—including for those who do not believe, for the oppressed, and for the Church universal.
• Fasting and abstinence, as acts of solidarity with Christ’s suffering.
In many places, processions or reenactments of the Stations of the Cross are held—tracing Jesus’s steps through his final hours.
But the purpose of all of it is the same:
To bring parishioners back to God. Back to truth. Back to when He walked with you—but you’ve forgotten.
You need to remember.
Now more than ever before.
Good Friday is the mystery of redemptive suffering.
It is the holy acknowledgment that God does not avoid pain—God enters it.
Salvation is not a quick fix.
It is born through blood, betrayal, loneliness, silence, acceptance, and forgiveness.
True love does not just give—it pours itself out.
Even when unrecognized.
Even when misunderstood.
Even when rejected.
Without end.
Catholic theology holds that Christ’s death on the cross was not an accident. It was a willing sacrifice—the fulfillment of the Paschal mystery: the lamb slain so others may live.
It is a day of paradox where:
A king died naked.
The author of life gave up His breath.
The one without sin was punished as a criminal.
And somehow, this is called “Good.”
In the Gospel of John, Jesus is crucified at the exact hour the Passover lambs were being slaughtered in the Temple—around 3 PM on 14 Nisan.
This is not metaphor. It is liturgical and prophetic convergence. In secularism, it’s called synchronicity or coincidental.
The lamb’s blood on the doorpost in Exodus saved Israel’s firstborn from death.
Christ’s blood on the cross, in Christian belief, saved humanity from spiritual death.
What about now?
This connection makes Good Friday a fulfillment of the Passover sacrifice in Catholic theology. Not a replacement—but a continuation in transformed form.
Good Friday is not a day to “feel better.”
It is a day to feel what is true.
It asks you to sit in the silence of grief without skipping to the resurrection.
It asks you to recognize and confront injustice—not just historically, but in your own life.
It asks you to recognize where innocence still dies, where violence is still sanctified, and where love still bleeds unacknowledged—at home.
And to decide to do something about that.