STXWM Blog

Growing up, Easter was basically the Christian version of the Met Gala. I’m talking frilly dresses that rustled when you walked, white patent leather shoes that could blind someone in direct sunlight, and coordinating hats resting atop perfectly barreled curls.

Our Easter season wasn’t so much spent reflecting on Holy Week; it was packed with dying eggs, chocolate bunnies, and big lunches at my great-grandma’s house following church. You didn’t just attend Easter lunch—you arrived like royalty, praying that there were some deviled eggs left and hoping that you didn’t “dirty up” your Easter dress.

As I got older, I began to understand that Easter wasn’t just about egg hunts and temporarily tolerating pantyhose. It was about Jesus dying on a cross (ouch) and then miraculously rising again on the third day (AMEN!). Suddenly, Easter had a whole new meaning that had nothing to do with marshmallow Peeps.

But while Easter Sunday felt like a full-blown celebration, Good Friday always sat quietly in the background—strange, somber, and honestly, a little confusing.

Back in my childhood, Good Friday actually was good—for one very specific, very non-theological reason: no school. That meant sleeping in, staying in my pajamas way too long, and spending the day watching gloriously trashy daytime television that I had absolutely no business watching. (Ricki Lake, Maury, Sally Jessy, anyone?) I had no clue what the day was really about, but hey—if it came with an excuse to miss school, I was all in.  Even now, if I’m being honest, I still find myself squinting at the calendar every year like, “Really? We’re still calling it Good Friday?”

The older I get, the more those mental images of Jesus—courtesy of The Passion of the Christ (which, let’s be honest, I still watch with one hand over my eyes)—flash across my mind. And when I allow myself to sit with the reality of it all, really feel the weight of Jesus’ humanity and His death, I find myself overwhelmed with emotion.

As I type this, I can feel the heaviness settle in—the suffering, the injustice, the ache of it all—and I think, “Lord… this hurts. How is this good?”  And yet, somehow, it is.

The truth is, we have a very human way of looking at the word “good.” We think of things that are pleasant, comfortable, easy—things that make us smile or feel warm and fuzzy inside. Good is a sunny day, a freshly cleaned kitchen (made even better if you weren’t the one who cleaned it), and a warm cup of coffee that hits just right.  But what kind of good does Good Friday represent?

It’s deeper. It’s not surface-level or soft around the edges. It’s a good that costs something. A good that saves. A good that looked like a loss before it ever looked like a victory.

It’s the kind of good that turns the whole definition upside down—because it’s not about what feels good, it’s about what God says is good.

Good Friday is good not because of what happened to Jesus, but because of what He chose to do for us.

There’s nothing “good” about betrayal, torture, and crucifixion… not in the way the world defines it. From a human standpoint, Good Friday looks like a complete and utter disaster. The hero dies. The crowd turns. The sky goes dark—literally.

“It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon.” – Luke 23:44

But here’s the thing: Good Friday isn’t about defeat. It’s about divine design.

Jesus didn’t just endure the cross—He embraced it. Not because He had to. But because He wanted to save you. Save me. Save all of us.

“No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.” – John 10:18

That’s what makes it good.

It’s good because the cross wasn’t the end of the story. It was the turning point. It was the plot twist. It was the beginning of the biggest comeback in history.

“But God shows His love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:8

It’s good because Sunday was coming.

Jesus’ death wasn’t a sign of failure. It was a fulfillment. He was the spotless Lamb, the perfect sacrifice foretold in Scripture. From the Garden of Eden to the Passover in Egypt, all of it had been pointing to this—the moment when sin would be swallowed up by grace, once and for all.

“He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed.” – Isaiah 53:5

It’s good because, on the darkest day in human history, the Light of the World did His most radiant work.

That cross, brutal and bloody, became the doorway to eternal life. That crown of thorns became a crown of glory. That cry of “It is finished” (John 19:30) wasn’t a whimper of defeat—it was a roar of victory.

So yes, Good Friday breaks our hearts.  But it also heals them.

It invites us to sit in the tension—the sorrow and the salvation, the suffering and the hope. It reminds us that our God doesn’t just stand at a distance; He steps into the mess, the pain, the death… and redeems it all.  Because He loves us that much.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” – John 15:13

So when we call it Good Friday, we’re not saying it wasn’t hard. We’re saying it was holy.
It was the day Jesus gave everything so we could have everything in Him.

And maybe that’s the goodness we’re invited to lean into—not just the goodness of a day, but the unfathomable goodness of God’s love. The kind of love that doesn’t shy away from pain, but steps into it for our sake. The goodness of a Savior who, in His willingness to lay down His life, showed us the depth of His love—love that redeems, restores, and makes us whole. That’s the true goodness of Good Friday: not a moment of comfort, but the ultimate act of sacrifice that brings eternal hope.

Good Friday can seem like a mystery for those who have yet to experience this love for themselves. The pain, the suffering, the death—it doesn’t feel “good” by human standards. But here’s the truth: it’s the kind of love that doesn’t just stand by and watch our brokenness. It enters into it. It takes it on. And in doing so, it transforms us.

If you’re struggling to see the “good” in Good Friday, know this: the story doesn’t end with the cross. It’s only the beginning. Sunday is coming. And in that resurrection, in the new life Jesus brings, we find the ultimate goodness. The love He demonstrated on Good Friday is still available to us today, ready to fill us, heal us, and carry us through whatever dark days we might face.

So, if you’ve ever wondered why we call it “Good” Friday, or why Jesus would do something so drastic for us, know that the answer lies in His love. A love that’s willing to sacrifice everything for you. A love that doesn’t just see you where you are, but sees you for who you can become—whole, healed, and alive in Him. That’s the hope Good Friday offers. And that’s the goodness that can change everything.

 Tracie Tevault is a recent addition to the STXWM blog team, and she’s excited to share her journey and connect with others through her writing. Married for 15 years to her best friend, Tracie is raising one awesome son and three spoiled cats who definitely rule the house. With a heart for ministry, Tracie has served in many areas, but her true passion lies in reaching those who might not fit the traditional church mold. She’s all about showing people they are loved, valued, and created with a purpose. Quirky, loud, and always ready for a good laugh, Tracie brings a fun-loving energy to everything she does. When she’s not writing or serving, you’ll find her hanging out with her family, discovering her newest crafting hyper fixation, and finding inspiration from God in the everyday moments.