The world in which we live is beautiful and awe inspiring. It is also dark and dangerous. We don’t have to wait until adulthood to recognize it or experience it, but the older we get, the more we see of the curse that has fallen on us all. Temptation, sin, failure, futility, disease, and death are not isolated afflictions for a few; they plague everyone. And underneath all of it is an ever-present evil. As Martin Luther wrote in his hymn, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” “This world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us.”
Yet this darkness is not just in the world but also in our very lives and inside each of us. We know tastes of glory but feasts of grief. The innocent are targeted, the vulnerable are oppressed, and it’s not just the “bad guys” doing bad things. Even the good guys will disappoint, if not destroy, for “the heart is deceitful above all things. … Who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). We all wind up being victims or villains—or both.
And while brokenness and betrayal afflict us all, they are a much more heinous assault on God. The Lord is holy, just, and good. He is patient, kind, loving, and forgiving. This means the corruption of creation is not merely humanity’s burden but a grievous affront to the one who made the world and called it “good.”
“The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled” (Gen. 6:5–6).
Yet as we walk through this gloomy night of this fallen world, God shines a light. In fact, since the very moment sin cast its shadow over creation, God didn’t hesitate to pierce the darkness with the light of his promise—a promise that gives hope to the despairing and comfort to the afflicted, because it is a certainty of redemption. Victims will be vindicated, evil will be crushed, sins will be forgiven, joy will overcome sorrow, and Life will put an end to death.
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned” (Isa. 9:2). The light first dawned in the garden to our first parents after their sin brought a curse into creation. The Seed of the woman would arise to defeat the deceiver who led them into unbelief. And as years passed, God repeated his promise, progressively revealing more for every generation. The promise pointed to a Servant—born of a virgin, despised and rejected, yet bearing the sins of many—who would redeem his people from sin, guilt, and death (Isa. 53:3–5).
In the fullness of time, the Light was manifested in the birth of Jesus—the fulfillment of all the promises that had been carrying the weary through their years of waiting and wandering. He came not only to deliver us from the domain of darkness but also to dispel the darkness itself. But to accomplish this, he would not merely enter the valley of the shadow of death; he would bear its full weight in his suffering and death on the cross.
His death, a willing sacrifice, was motivated by love for the undeserving, and by his death, he saves sinners and sufferers. This is why we call his death “good”—not because of the evil inflicted on him by wicked men but because of the divine purpose behind it and what he accomplished through it.
How do we live through the night while knowing that dawn is slowly approaching? We fix our eyes on Jesus, drawing near to him who drew near to us; and in him we find the beauty, awe, and purpose of the Creator in this corrupt creation. Good Friday is ultimately good because it doesn’t end in darkness. The death of the Light of the World brought life and light to all who believe. And after the darkness of his death, the Son rises in triumph over the curse. By faith, the Morning Star rises in our hearts (2 Pet. 1:19), so we no longer walk in darkness but in the light of life.
“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).
Joe Thorn is the lead pastor of Redeemer Fellowship in St. Charles, Illinois, and the author of several books, including Note to Self: The Discipline of Preaching to Yourself.
