The word tenebrae means “darkness” and refers to a worship service in which the progressive extinguishing of candles represents the approaching death of Christ. The Tenebrae service is one of prolonged meditation of the suffering of Christ. The service is divided into seven chief parts. At the end of each part the sanctuary will become darker. At the end of the service, the church will be very dark. No offering will be taken during the service. As you leave in silence you may place your offering in the basket in the back of the church.

On Good Friday we remember the crucifixion and death of our Lord both with sorrow and solemn joy. Though the events of this day fill us with horror, the implications of those events give us every reason for praise. Jesus’ death had this breathtaking significance. Once and for all, it paid for the guild of all of us and for all of time. Standing in our place, our substitute was forsaken by his Father on the cross so that we could be reconciled to God and have an eternal home in heaven.

We look at Jesus on the cross, and there is sorrow. He is there because of us. He is there because he loves us that much, so much he gave us his last breath. Jesus took all our guilt into the tomb with him. It will stay there. He will not. That is why we can call this Friday good.
This year we will use a visual to help us contemplate the love of Jesus on the cross. All who wish to do so will be invited to come forward and place a nail in the cross on the main floor of church. The nail has a red ribbon attached to remind us that it was our sins that caused Jesus to shed his blood. This truth pains us. This truth causes us joy because Jesus’ life and death is the sacrifice that paid for the guilt of our sins and the sins of the whole world.

On Thursday of Holy Week, Jesus began to execute the terms of the New Covenant. This New Covenant replaced an old one and was fundamentally different from in it every way. While the Old Covenant was more like a contract, the New Covenant is more like a will. The old offers rewards in return for work; the new makes unconditional and lasting promises. The old will always leave us starving in our relationship with God; the new satisfies the deepest hunger of our soul.

This is precisely why Jesus connected this new covenant with a special meal. To an uninformed outsider, the Lord’s Supper looks like a poor snack—a bite of bread and sip of wine. But the followers of Christ understand that this holy food provides all the blessings of the new covenant.

This week we see how our Father makes the treasures of his house available to any and all. He places them in the last place we’d expect—the trash. In God’s family, the things the world prizes and pursues are counted as worthless. Conversely, what the world rejects and discards is considered priceless and worth pursuing.

The best example of this is Jesus Christ himself. The Father sent his greatest treasure—God the Son—to earth. And many considered Jesus to be a trash that needed to be taken out. . . a troublemaker that needed to be killed. In truth, Christ is the precious cornerstone that God used to build his house, the one with the open door.

This week we see how our Father makes the treasures of his house available to any and all. He places them in the last place we’d expect—the trash. In God’s family, the things the world prizes and pursues are counted as worthless. Conversely, what the world rejects and discards is considered priceless and worth pursuing.

The best example of this is Jesus Christ himself. The Father sent his greatest treasure—God the Son—to earth. And many considered Jesus to be a trash that needed to be taken out. . . a troublemaker that needed to be killed. In truth, Christ is the precious cornerstone that God used to build his house, the one with the open door.

Removing Our Guilt. “The Lord is not slow to do what he promised. . . . Instead, he is patient for your sakes, not wanting anyone to perish, but all to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). Luther began his famous debate theses noting that Scripture’s call to repentance is intended as a way of life. Using David’s great penitential Psalm 51, penned following his affair with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah, we explore the depths of our sinful depravity, the brokenness of our relationship with God, our dire need for rescue, and the good news of forgiveness, cleansing, and rejoicing in our restored relationship with God and the promise of eternal life through Jesus our Savior. Today’s focus is on Psalm 51:8-9 and how God removes our guilt.

Whenever someone accuses us of doing wrong, it’s easy to get defensive. We make excuses. “I’m not that bad.” We try and balance the scales. “Okay, that was wrong. But look at all the good I do!” We play the comparison game. “At least I’m not like him!” When our defenses go up, repentance is impossible.

God, however, has a strategy for lowing our defenses. He assures us that his door is open, and that his home is the place where we don’t need to pretend to be something that we’re not—perfect. Our Father does not ask us to come to him and confess our sin so that he might know what we’ve done. He already knows. He asks us to repent so that we might fully know what we’ve done. Only when we grasp the true weight of our sin, will we call out to God for mercy. When we do, God is always quick to forgive.

Ash Wednesday marks the begging of Lent, reminding us of our mortality and calling us to repent. The ancient practice of imposing ashes on the foreheads of the faithful is what gives Ash Wednesday its name. The church father Tertullian (c. A.D. 160-215) writes of the practice as a public expression of repentance and of our human frailty that stands in need of Christ. Ashes can remind us forcefully of our need for redeeming grace as they recall words from the rite of Christian burial—“earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”—words that will someday be spoken over us all.

Would you look directly at the sun? Only if you wanted to burn your retinas and have permanent blind spots. Would you like to look directly at God? It sounds wonderful in theory. Yet Scripture describes God’s glory as being brighter than the sun. Moreover, one component of God’s glory is his holiness. Being holy doesn’t just mean God loves good; he also hates evil with burning intensity. And we sin every day. No wonder the Lord once told Moses, “No one may see me and live” (Exodus 33:20). Sinners would die of fear if they saw God in all his holy glory.

So, how then can we possibly know God? How can we draw near to him without dying of terror? In our final epiphany moment of this season, God explains. God hides his glory in order to reveal himself. To carry out his good and glorious work of salvation, Jesus hid his glory and went to the cross. To allow sinners to stare at his glory without fear or harm, God hides it in the gospel. In the gospel, we see the glory of Christ’s love, power, and salvation. The reality is that when God’s glory is hidden, it is most on display.

Throughout this season of Epiphany, Jesus has described the governing principles of his kingdom being completely opposite to the governing principles of the world. This week Jesus asks us to befriend our enemies, to love those who hate us, and to repay evil with good. Worldly logic would say that is a recipe for being walked all over. Yet haven’t we seen this tactic work? When we were Christ’s enemies, he loved us to the point of death. He repays our daily wrongs with the daily goodness of his mercy. In doing so, he won us for himself.

Here is the epiphany we badly need to have. Following the strategy Jesus lays out—loving our enemies—is not a capitulation to evil. It is a means of conquering it.