What’s Good About Good Friday?

I remember the first time I really thought about Good Friday. The day Jesus was betrayed, beaten, mocked, and crucified. The day the Son of God died. And we call it… good? 

It almost feels wrong to say. If we pause long enough to sit in the weight of that day, “good” doesn’t feel like the right word. It feels like grief. Like loss. Like everything has gone terribly wrong. And yet, for centuries, Christians have called this day Good Friday. 

So what’s “good” about it? To answer that, we have to look beneath the surface of the cross. Because what looked like defeat was actually the greatest victory the world has ever seen. 

The Darkest Day in History 

Before we can understand why Good Friday is good, we have to be honest about what happened. Good Friday was not peaceful. It was brutal. Jesus was arrested in the night, abandoned by His friends, falsely accused, and sentenced to death. He was flogged, mocked, and nailed to a cross. Crucifixion was one of the most painful and humiliating forms of execution in the Roman world. 

The suffering of Jesus was intentional, not random. Isaiah had foretold this event centuries earlier: “He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities” (Isaiah 53:5). In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus felt the weight of what was coming. In Matthew 26:38, He says, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.” Later, on the cross, Jesus makes one of the most haunting cries in Scripture: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). 

This is not a “good” moment in the way we usually define good. It was injustice, it was death, but none of it was meaningless. Acts 2:23 tells us that Jesus was “delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God.” What looked like chaos was actually part of a divine plan unfolding. God was doing His deepest work.  

Why Good Friday is Called “Good” 

So where did the name “Good Friday” even come from? 

Interestingly, the term “Good Friday” has been used in English since at least the Middle Ages. Some scholars believe “good” originally meant “holy” or “sacred,” similar to how we say “the Good Book” for the Bible. Others suggest it reflects the outcome of the holiday: the “good” that came from Jesus’ sacrifice. In other languages, the holiday leans more into sorrow. For example, in German, it’s called Karfreitag, which means “Sorrowful Friday.”1 

But in English, we kept the word good, and maybe that’s intentional. The goodness of Good Friday isn’t found in what happened to Jesus, but what His death accomplished. 

Romans 5:8 says: “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” That’s the turning point. The cross wasn’t just an example of suffering. It was a substitution. Jesus took our place. 

2 Corinthians 5:21 puts it this way: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” Everything we deserved (sin, separation, death) was placed on Him. Everything He deserved (righteousness, relationship, life) is offered to us. 

That’s why it’s good. Not because the cross was easy, but because it was effective. Not because there was no pain, but because the pain had a purpose. And not because death won, but because death, in the end, was defeated. 

The Cross Changes Everything 

Good Friday doesn’t stand alone. If it did, it would just be a tragedy. But we know what comes next. Sunday is coming. 

Still, there’s something important about not rushing past Friday too quickly. Because the cross is where we see the full weight of our sin intersect with God’s love. At the cross, we see how serious sin really is. 

It’s easy to minimize sin. We call it mistakes, bad habits, or just being human. If we’re honest, we excuse it, rename it, or ignore it altogether, while still expecting the grace of the cross to cover it. But the cross reminds us that sin is costly. It required the death of Jesus.  

At the same time, the cross shows us how deep God’s love really goes. John 15:13 says: “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” That’s exactly what Jesus did. He didn’t wait for us to get our lives together. He didn’t love us at our best. He loved us at our worst, and He chose the cross anyway.  

That changes how we see God. Instead of distant, He becomes deeply involved. It changes how we see ourselves: not defined by our failures, but redeemed by His grace. And it changes how we live: because if Jesus gave everything for us, then following Him isn’t about checking boxes or earning approval. It’s about responding to love with love. 

Galatians 2:20 says: “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” The cross isn’t just something we believe in. It’s something we live from. 

When I think about Good Friday now, I don’t see it the same way I used to. Yes, it’s still heavy. Yes, it’s still painful. But it’s also beautiful. Because what looked like the end was actually the beginning. What looked like defeat was actually victory. And what looked like the worst day in history became the reason we have hope. 

If I’m honest, I don’t always slow down enough to sit in that. Most days, I’m moving from one thing to the next. There are days where I rush through a quick prayer in the morning and then spend the rest of the day operating like everything depends on me. I’ll think about my to-do list more than I think about what Jesus actually did on the cross. And by the end of the day, I feel the weight of everything I’ve been trying to carry. 

Nothing about that looks wrong on the outside. It just looks like responsibility. But underneath it, I’m living like the cross wasn’t enough to cover me. Even during a week like this, it’s easy for Good Friday to become something I acknowledge while still living like the cross doesn’t actually change anything. But the cross was never meant to be rushed past. It was meant to stop us. 

Sometimes I think, “If I could just do better, then maybe I’d be enough.” And Good Friday interrupts that. Jesus didn’t go to the cross because I was almost enough. He went because I wasn’t, I never would be, and He chose to love me anyway. That means I don’t have to prove myself. I don’t have to carry what He already paid for. 

So this week, I’m trying to slow down. To pause. To actually reflect. To thank Him in a way that isn’t rushed or distracted. And I want to invite you to do the same. If we’re honest, many of us have heard the story of Good Friday so many times that it no longer affects us the way it should. We know the details. We know how it ends. And somewhere along the way, something sacred has started to feel familiar. 

That’s a dangerous place to be, not because the cross has lost its power, but because we’ve grown numb to it. So if you’re not sure how to prepare this week, here are a few simple ways to respond: 

Slow your reading down. Don’t skim the crucifixion story. Sit with it. Let yourself notice the details. 

Engage in a new way. Read the story in a different Bible translation, or watch a film to help you see the story with fresh eyes. 

Ask God to wake your heart up. Be honest if you’re feeling distant this Good Friday. Invite God to help you feel the weight of it again. 

None of this is about doing more, but instead remembering what’s already been done. Because if Good Friday teaches us anything, it’s this: you don’t have to carry what Jesus already did. 

So here’s the question I’m asking myself this week: Am I living like the cross was enough? Or am I still trying to earn what’s already been given? As you sit in the weight of Friday, remember this is not the end of the story. 

Sunday is coming. 

REFERENCES: 

1. Encyclopedia Britannica, “Good Friday,” https://www.britannica.com/topic/Good-Friday