This Good Friday Poem from Abi Andrews is based on Mark 15:16-41


The worst start to any kingdom, the death of the King

Beaten, broken, stripped of everything

The soldiers around mocked and scorned

As they pierced his head with a crown of thorns

If only they knew the truth of their words

The irony in every insult heard


He doesn’t save himself but instead is saving others

Tearing down walls for criminals to be sisters and brothers


The body crushed, the insults hurled

He’s not just King of the Jews but King of the world


The light of the world, Cornerstone

The mystery of God, now made known

Yahweh, Creator, Son of Man

Christ, Messiah, the great I AM

Firstborn over all creation

Lord of all the Earth’s population

Mighty God and Prince of Peace

The one Good Shepherd who knows his sheep

Son of God, Emmanuel

Came down to earth to make all things well


And then


Over. Finished. Done.

Failure. Defeat. Enemy won.

God himself torn apart

As time came to an end for his beating heart


Author of life came here to die

Cursed, alone, body bled dry


Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?


We thought it was over, his power diminished

When he cried out on that cross “it is finished”


But he wasn’t talking about just his life.

But the sin and the pain and regrets of this world

The sorrow and sadness and chaos that unfurled

The reign of evil, it is finished,

It’s not the King but Satan who is diminished


The temple curtain is torn in two

Top to bottom, God to man

Setting in motion God’s redemption plan


Three nails, one cross, forgiven

Saved from our ugly and broken condition


They thought this was the King’s assassination

But God was making a way for every tribe and every nation


Not everyone there would see

But there was one man who watched and believed

A soldier responsible for driving the nails

Into the hands stretched out as love prevailed

Surely this man was the son of God


I see him hanging upon my cross

My nails, my death yet his life we lost

This sacrifice was not just a suggestion

But he was pierced and torn for my transgression


This is why we call this Friday good

When our Saviour was nailed to a cross of wood


What we saw as the end was only our beginning,

What was meant for death, meant we could go on living

He hung on a cross wooden and rugged

So I could stand here and be called beloved.