We come gingerly to prayer on this Good Friday
holding the pieces of our broken world.
So much is ruined and spoiled,
so much hatred and anger,
so many acts of violence.
Our eyes turn to the cross
as evidence of our sinfulness,
we crucified even the one who loved us most and best.
There is no talk today of who is greatest,
no talk of triumph and victory.
Instead we stand quietly here at the foot of the cross,
joining the few friends who stand in silent witness.
In this solemn hour,
as we remember the death of our Saviour,
crack open all that is hard within us,
every place that is self-satisfied and self-serving,
every attitude that is superior and smug.
We come before you as your broken people,
penitent, sorrowful, anguished.
Our comfort lies in words spoken at death’s door;
Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.