Good Friday: Walking with Jesus, Even to the Cross

Good Friday invites us into a story many of us would rather skip over.

We like to talk about walking with Jesus. It sounds peaceful — like a quiet morning walk through sun-dappled trees, or a comforting journey where we feel close to something holy. But on this day, we remember where that walk really leads.

It leads to a crowded, jeering street where the air is thick with dust and sweat and the metallic scent of blood. It leads to splinters pressed into a back already torn raw by whips. It leads to the sound of a hammer cracking bone and wood. It leads to the weight of the world carried on shoulders that should have collapsed long before.

When we say we want to follow Jesus, we often don’t realize we’re saying yes to this road — this kind of road. One where the crowds don’t cheer, but mock. One where your friends disappear when you need them most. One where even God seems far away.

“Then Jesus told his disciples, ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.’”
— Matthew 16:24

The way of Jesus is not something we admire from a safe distance. It’s something we are called to step into. Not just in spirit — but in body, in breath, in the aching of real life.

To walk with Jesus today is to feel the stones underfoot dig into your skin. It is to hear the whisper of injustice passed between leaders behind closed doors. It is to feel the shame of being stripped bare, the loneliness of being misunderstood, the sting of nails that were never meant for you — but somehow, still are.

It’s to weep beside the women who stayed when others ran. It’s to be crushed by the question, “Why?” and to sit in the silence that follows.

“He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief... Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.”
— Isaiah 53:3–4

Walking with Jesus means choosing to stay with the hurting, even when we want to leave. It means refusing to look away from pain — our own or others'. It means loving when it’s not safe. Speaking up when it costs us something. Carrying each other when the burden feels unbearable.

But it also means knowing that Jesus is not only ahead of us — he is with us. In every wound, in every silence, in every fear that we will not make it through. He does not just walk toward the cross. He walks with us through our own.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses... Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence.”
— Hebrews 4:15–16

So today, let us not rush to Easter. Let us stay here for a moment. At the cross. In the ache. Let us listen to the groaning earth, the rending veil, the whispered last breath. Let us walk with Jesus — not just when it’s easy, but when it’s real. And trust that somehow, through suffering, we are being remade.

A Good Friday Prayer

Jesus, man of sorrows, we walk with you today.
Not in strength, but in trembling.
Not in certainty, but in longing.
Teach us not to look away.
Teach us to stay present in the pain — in our world, in others, in ourselves.
You bore our griefs. You carried our sorrows.
May we learn to carry one another, too.
Even here, in this shadowed valley,
may your love be the ground beneath our feet.
Amen.

Reflection Question

Where in your life are you being invited to stay present with pain — your own or someone else’s — rather than avoiding it?