A Passionate Good Friday

I'm not one to normally to pick up and go, but the opportunity presented itself Thursday evening at dinner, and so I took care of some necessary commitments, threw a few things in a bag, and headed out the door the next morning to Atlanta. The occasion was a friend's extra ticket allowing me to enter the gates of the Verizon Amphitheater for Passion's Good Friday service. The Easter weekend/summer break traffic was horrific, but good company and a heart full of joy over such trivial matters made the trip easy and short. (And now I can say I've actually been through the metropolis of Locust Grove.)

I have to admit I've never stood in line to get into a church service. Not until now anyway.
Fortunately, Julie and I didn't have to fight for our seats. (If anyone knows me well, they know I'm serious when I say that.) It's all who you know -- and we knew the right person this time.
They don't start until Julie's son Jonathan says "Okay."

Okay, so he does have a boss who gives the final word: Shelley Giglio. A beautiful woman who glows with Christ. (L-R) Me, Jonathan, Julie and Shelley

The grassy knoll was covered with souls eager to worship. I wonder if this in any way resembled the mount when Jesus taught the multitudes.
It was an amazing evening to say the least. I normally don't take pictures in worship services, but for the sake of the blog, I did manage to snap a few shots during the 4 hour service.

Chris Tomlin

Matt Redman

Kristian Stanfield

These 3 guys, along with their worship teams, ushered us into the Presence. As Louie calls it, they were the "door holders."

Louie Giglio

And Louie led us to the cross. Rejoice with me for the lives that were exchanged this night.

It was a night filled with singing, with dancing, with shouting, with bowing, with offerings, with tears, with joy. It was a moment of looking back as well as forward, of knowing I no longer have to "do" because it has been done. It was a powerful evening ending with a huge exclamation mark as all the stops were pulled and the noise resounded far into the night skies toward the heavenlies. It was a night of worship, the kind where every vibration was felt and every emotion experienced.

And yet, in these last moments before the Easter shout is heard, I take one more look upon God's Son, His broken body, His bruised face, His bleeding head, His open side, and His hands and feet split open with nails -- and there is no response but silence. Anything else would be inadequate.

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven ... a time to be silent ... (Eccl. 3:1, 7b)

Just an ordinary moment...