Being Still (Even When Life Is Not) by Josh Pinkston

Be still, and know that I am God.
– Psalm 46.10

I think the majority of the western world is familiar with this verse. It’s so vague it’s generally acceptable. In my personal journey in Contemplative Christian Spirituality, it is where I began.

When I first started practicing Silent Prayer, I didn’t know where to start. The Psalm 46 passage was a huge help; Be still, and know that I am God. Repeating that internally, quietly, and slowly was a shock to my normal flow of thought. It interrupted my neurosis, broke my cyclical emotional thinking, and directed me to the Source. It created room for the God to be with me, internally; where my consciousness would normally be crammed with self-absorbed obsessive thinking, there was room. Space for something other to be present. That’s not something they teach in churches. We’re taught how to think correctly, rather than how to think openly to the presence of Christ in all, and through all…including ourselves!

I revisit Psalm 46.10 in a new perspective now. Today, times are stressful. Money is short. Life is disorganized, inconsistent, and chaotic. “Be still, and know that I am God.” It is a difficult thing to do.

I know it’s tempting to think, “Be still and know that I am God and everything will work out just fine,” but I don’t believe in the prosperity gospel that some Christians subtly proclaim. I see people dying of hunger, thirst, and pain all the time, every day. We lost our first son before birth. Terrible things are happening all the time and have been since the dawn of time.

To think that if I do the right thing or pray the right prayer or believe the right way God will perform a miracle for my benefit is to believe in the gospel according to Harry Potter. It’s magical thinking and self-centric theology. I don’t think prosperity is what makes God good or relevant. That’s a very American, heretical, and deceptive idea of God.

So, if “be still and know that I am God” won’t help me pay the bills, sustain security or health, what good is it?!

That is an important question. It’s the questions we’re afraid to ask (and peacefully sit with for some time) that will lead us to the answers we so desperately need.

When we can answer that question for ourselves, within ourselves, we begin to know “God’s peace, which transcends all understanding.”

Be strong and very courageous. Be not afraid, neither be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.
– Joshua 1.9

I Hunger and Thirst, But Not for Christianity by Josh Pinkston

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
   for they will be filled.

Jesus, Matthew 5.6

Recently, I was sitting with a couple pastor-friends in The Oregon Public House while I was on break. We began discussing how churches are in decline, young people are disinterested in Christianity, what this means for their daughter, and ways how her and others’ hearts might be stirred again. I couldn't help feeling like I can relate more with their daughter than with the concern for the church.

I’m a pastor. I like the Church. But I am feeling finished with how our Christian culture has kept its message on Christianity, which has changed and morphed and failed and succeeded, rather than Jesus, Who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. It’s a culture that I’ve come to identify as “Churchianity.” One example of this is we give answers to questions no one is asking. For instance, what if I don’t care about life after death? Is Jesus still relevant? Here? Now? Prove it!

Churchianity tells us what to believe before learning how to believe.  It gives a “first time believers” program that is somehow supposed to be a supplement or fast-track to a relationship with Christ, but usually centers on beliefs about Jesus and historical/biblical events, being present at church, inviting people to church, and volunteering at church. If Jesus was so concerned about what we believe and our spending time at church, why would He waste so much of His time speaking remarkably unclearly with parables and never once inviting or directing people to temple or church?

Believe Me, a time is coming when you will worship the Father
neither [merely] in this mountain nor [merely] in Jerusalem. …
A time will come, however, indeed it is already here, when
the true (genuine) worshipers will worship the Father in spirit
and in truth (reality); for the Father is seeking just such people
as these as His worshipers. God is a Spirit (a spiritual Being)
and those who worship Him must worship Him in spirit
and in truth (reality).

Jesus, John 4.21, 23/24

I’m done learning what and where to believe. Knowledge and context have a tricky way of being domination in disguise. If I can “know” something about God that someone else doesn't, then I can feel that I am in someway above others and in more control of or closer to God than them. It’s an embarrassing confession and kinda sick. I easily use God, theology, experience, and religion as a path to false security by feeling dominant in one way or another. I am (or at least want to be) completely done with that.

I don’t want Christianity anymore. The Christianity I’m talking about is not Jesus’ spirituality or teachings, but the one I’ve come to know as Churchianity. I’m done being told what to believe and being instructed to tell others what to believe, as if right-belief is what Jesus was really concerned with. For the past decade, with each passing year, I’ve become more and more increasingly convinced that Jesus’ emphasis was emphatically how we believe.

How I believe is far more important and significant. How do I believe in an eternal, infinite God who is Love? How do I believe this God is personal and intimate? How do I believe that this God is all and is in all?

And you shall love the Lord your God out of and with your whole heart and out of and with all your soul (your life) and out of and with all your mind (with your faculty of thought and your moral understanding) and out of and with all your strength. This is the first and principal commandment. The second is like the first and is this, You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.
Jesus, Mark 12.30/31

This is a lot of Love. It breaks my heart when I really sit and consider it. How am I with my wife? How am I with my son? How am I with the my friends? How am I with the strangers who come up to the counter at the pub and order a beer? How am I when I’m mopping the floor at midnight? How am I when I am alone and no one is looking? Are the whole of my heart, soul, mind, and strength being engaged? Am I in Love? Because Jesus is and directs me/us to that place. If I am a Christian, I should be increasingly learning this on an experiential level every day. That is how I believe.

Does how we believe increase relationship with God and love for others (including our “enemies” and those different than us)? If not, I doubt it is actually Jesus we are following but a culture labeling itself with Christianity. That is not the faith Jesus professed. It may even be the antithesis.

I am hungry and thirsty, but not for Christianity; I hunger and thirst for righteousness (uninterrupted intimacy with God; not self-righteousness), of which Jesus is the embodiment. It is my conviction that every single person hungers and thirsts for Christ's righteousness, but the Way has become muddled and overgrown. We need to constantly return to asking, seeking, and knocking.

For everyone who asks and keeps on asking receives; and he who seeks and keeps on seeking finds; and to him who knocks and keeps on knocking, the door shall be opened.
Jesus, Luke 11.10

Intimacy with God by Josh Pinkston

The practice of intimacy with God is something I feel passionate about, but find difficult to put into words. I think this is because it seems to be one of the least talked about aspects of Christianity. 

We talk about belief in God, worshipping God (almost always as it pertains to music), and praying to God about our wants and gratitude, but rarely is the concept of intimacy with God directly addressed. Yet, it is the most important aspect of Jesus’ spirituality.

Without being actively intimate with God, our faith inevitably turns in on itself and becomes about self-preservation, which is the antithesis of Jesus’ spirituality.

Think of the intimacy Jesus is directing us toward when He says, “'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind (intellect).' This is the great (most important, principal) and first commandment.” Is love not an intimate thing?

Another way to look at it could be, if I study facts or beliefs about Shawna without spending time with her myself, our marriage would be painfully hollow. She would not know me. And I would not know intimacy with her. My studies may help change my behavior and give me insights, but it would not be the same as loving her with all my heart and with all my soul and with all my mind.

Sadly, that is what the religion of Christianity has been reduced to for many. We try to love God with our beliefs, opinions, and certain behaviors, but leave the whole of our hearts, souls, and minds out of the equation. And it robs ourselves and the world of the reality of the Gospel.

The first step to intimacy with God is realizing, accepting, and understanding how Christ is already intimate with all of us:

All things were made and came into existence through Christ; and without Him was not even one thing made that has come into being. In Him was Life, and the Life was the Light of men.
– John 1.3/4

Life is Christ. When we are numb to the wonder of life, we will be numb to the closeness of Christ. Waking up to this reality is one thing; staying awake to it is something else altogether. When we see intimacy with God as something far off and to be attained to, we make it all about ourselves: What am I doing to get there? How am I behaving in a way that will attain it? But the whole message of the Gospel is that there is no divide except for the one we’ve accepted in our own hearts.

If we see God as being far off, we will not experience the intimacy of life with Christ. It is very possible to be a professing Christian and yet still live a life devoid of Divine Intimacy. At once though, when we see the closeness and permanence of Christ “in all and through all,” we will understand that intimacy with God is not something to attain to, but to be actively accepted, celebrated, and participated with. The notion that just knowing it is enough, is a deception.

We must intentionally and actively participate in intimacy with God.

Be still and know.

When you pray, go into your inner room and pray in secret without using many words, where your Heavenly Father is.

There are some zealous believers who portray Divine Intimacy with an unhealthy emphasis on emotional experience and lengthy prayer sessions. When I speak with folks in this predicament, I get the sense that they are really seeking validation and consolation, not necessarily intimacy with Christ. The problem is that emotions can be easily manipulatable, manipulating, and even faked. Intimacy cannot be faked. Although it can be emotional, is much more than an emotion. Seek intimacy, not emotion. The point of prayer is not to multiply words, but to simplify the whole of our lives into one act of prayer.

That emphasis places a distance between us and God because it centers on emotion, which is unsustainable. Any distance we "feel" between us and God is the result of our internal emotional and mental condition, not the result of God's actual proximity. Emmanuel, He is with us.

By love may God be gotten and holden, by thought never.
– Anonymous, The Cloud of Unknowing

The coming of the kingdom of God is not something that can be observed, nor will people say, ‘Here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ because the kingdom of God is within you.
– Jesus, Luke 17.20/21

The kingdom of God is within you now. Where are you?

Everyone Is Good. by Josh Pinkston

It’s a bit sad to know how shocking (or even offensive) it might be for some to hear a pastor say, “Everyone is good.” Many Christians have a theology built on the foundation “Everyone is bad and so Jesus had to die to make up for the difference, because God is good even though people suck.” That’s one way of looking at and interpreting Scripture, but it is incomplete.

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.
– Genesis 1.27

All things were made and came into existence through Christ; and without Him was not even one thing made that has come into being. In Him was Life, and the Life was the Light of men.
– John 1.3/4

There is but one God, the Father, from whom all things came and for whom we live; and there is but one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom all things came and through whom we live.
– 1 Corinthians 8.6

Everyone (and even every thing) is made in this Light. There are no exceptions. Yeah, the person you just thought of, whom you consider might be an exception? They are not. And neither are you! This is what Scripture teaches, and all Scriptures that feel contrary need to be filtered through this fundamental truth.

Too many Christians are more comfortable identifying themselves with their “original sin,” rather than what came before that: our original goodness. Goodness, Love, and Light are actually who we really are by the very nature of our having been made in God’s own image. That reality is something that we should sit with for a long time. We need only remove the layers of hurt and defensiveness that have built up over our real selves.

This flips religion on its head! Instead of it being a way to make us acceptable to God, it’s a way to help us continuously and fully accept God, Who has always and ceaselessly accepted us.

Now, I am not saying that everything about everyone is good, but I am saying that everyone is inherently good. It’s what my faith in Christ teaches me every single day. That subtle nuance makes a world of a difference. It means that when we’re behaving selfishly or cruelly, it’s because we’ve become oblivious and thoughtless to who we are.

In those respects in which the soul is unlike God, it is also unlike itself.
- Saint Bernard

Christianity is the journey of discovering our (all of our) native identity; it’s not an attempt to make us someone we’re not. It is remarkably freeing to know, recognize, and understand this. So many people try to make themselves good by what they do exteriorly without seeking a goodness (God) within themselves first. It is how so many people (and many pastors) do great things, but then end up burnt out and doing something seemingly completely out of character. Scriptures tell us that “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” are fruit of the Spirit (who dwells within us), but so many go about trying to make it the fruit of our efforts.

Don’t just strive to do good; strive to be in union with God; Who is all and is in all. Then goodness will be our natural disposition, without tiring us.

Love all that has been created by God,
both the whole and every grain of sand.
Love every leaf and every ray of light.
Love the beasts and the birds,
love the plants,
love every separate fragment.
If you love each separate fragment,
you will understand the mystery of the whole resting in God.

– Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1821-1881)

It is the difference between religion and relationship. If it exhausts us, we’re focused on the wrong thing.

Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
– Jesus, Matthew 11.28-30

A Spiritual Practice of Making Room by Josh Pinkston

With our recent move back to Portland, I’ve been thinking a lot about the contemplative Christian spiritual principal and practice of making room.

Most of my life is centered on filling room. Whether it be in my schedule, heart, ears (with music, podcasts, etc), and relationships (always busying ourselves, never sitting intimately together), the idea of making room feels abruptly counter intuitive.

When I think about Jesus’ description of prayer, it sounds like making room to me:

When you pray, you should go into your room and close the door and pray to your Father who cannot be seen. Your Father can see what is done in secret, and he will reward you. And when you pray, don’t be like those people who don’t know God. They continue saying things that mean nothing, thinking that God will hear them because of their many words. Don’t be like them, because your Father knows the things you need before you ask him.
– Matthew 6.6-8

Make Room:

  1. Go into a private place
    • make room in your schedule and surroundings; externally and internally
  2. Don’t multiply words
    • don’t fill the time with your own voice, make room to hear and listen

For years, I’ve felt a personal emphasis on making room. I believe it is an important dimension of Jesus’ spirituality and guidance. But how do we “make room?” By Trust. (Trust is the truest definition of faith). Most of the time, I get caught in filling up and busying my mind, schedule, relationships, and prayer because I internally believe it is my surest or quickest way to find fulfillment; at least sense of security, comfort, and satisfaction. It is an unarticulated belief. But the way I fill my time reveals that it is a belief.

Anton Chekhov was very correct when he said, “You are what you believe.” If I’m anxious, it’s because I trust my anxiety will benefit and defend me more than simply trusting God. If I’m chaotically busy, it’s because I believe my busyness will accumulate significance, rather than God’s love and intimacy. Pastors are caught up in this deception often. “You are what you believe;” what you really believe. Is your hope for satisfaction and wholeness in Christ? Or is it in busyness, accomplishment, being liked, or financial security? I have to look deeply at my life to give an honest answer.

To make room requires moving one or more of my methods of security out of the way, at least for some time, in order to give God some space. Doing this takes trust. Especially when I’ve invested heavily emotionally, mentally, and/or spiritually in the idea that something else will bring me the satisfaction and wholeness I desire.

To “be still and know” requires my trusting God will meet me in the stillness and knowing. Even when I don’t feel it. Trusting. It takes trust to make room; to be still and know; to be silent; to be loving and receptive to God and others.

Making Scary Decisions, Faithfully by Josh Pinkston

Shawna and I have moved 12 times in 11 years of marriage. You’d think we were people who absolutely love to move and dislike being in one place for too long, but you’d be mistaken. Very seldom have our moves been instigated by own choosing. It has not been easy for us.

We surprisingly really enjoy consistency. And now that we’ve just made another big move back to Portland, OR from Sunnyvale, CA with a 7 month old, we’re ready, once again, to stay in one place for a while. We’re living in the Woodlawn neighborhood in NE Portland. I’m currently across the street from our apartment sitting at a coffeeshop which is only a block away from The Oregon Public House, where I’ll be working. The Woodlawn neighborhood is home. It is sweet.

The outside seating area at Woodlawn Coffee & Pastry shop

The outside seating area at Woodlawn Coffee & Pastry shop

Moving here was a huge leap of faith for our family. We were very well provided for in California and near our families (aka free babysitters). It was kind of stupid of us to leave! But this time, it was a choice. While living there and working with Stu Nice and Brook Fonceca at Valley Life Church, I was given more room than I’d ever known. Room to be, heal, dream, and grow. It was such a gift. Absolutely priceless. I am immensely grateful.

Now, not to be morbid or anything, but I think about death on a daily basis. I realize (and want to realize) that this is all extremely temporary and limited and I want to experience the “life and life more abundantly” that Jesus defined as His reason for living. (I don't believe I would be betraying His sentiment by retranslating it to "love and love more abundantly"). In light of that, one of my biggest challenges in life is discovering how I want to spend it. While we were in Sunnyvale, I finally felt like I discovered my vision for our future. At least a very specific direction to walk toward.

Once I began working toward it, the opportunity opened up at The Oregon Public House to help discover ways for the pub to outwardly love its (now our) community. It is a remarkable step in the direction we want to go as a family.

Financially, this is a pretty huge leap of faith for us. Comfort-wise, it was also a huge leap of faith for us (Shawna hadn’t seen our apartment or even been back to Portland since we last lived here). Parenting-wise… you get it. I could go on and on about the leap of faith this has been, but that is also why we had to do it. Life is too short NOT to live by faith. 

Life is so short. If we don’t make room in our lives for God to show His love and care, we will go our whole lives without experiencing and fully knowing it (and it has to take place in that order). Now that we believe we have a vision for the direction of our lives, we have to start walking toward it; fearlessly and faithfully (i.e. full of faith/trust).

My Doubt in Faith by Josh Pinkston

Most people don’t know this about me, but faith continues to be a challenging aspect of my life. There have been a few seasons when I’ve prayed with arduous desperation for God’s miraculous touch or spiritual consolation and felt to have been met with absence. Which really felt more like rejection. Those seasons have left marks on me and I continue to wrestle through them because I believe in God more than I believe in my feelings about God.

Faith is a journey. Doubt is a conclusion; it’s a dead end road, believing there is nothing more to see. Faith says there is far more to see than what meets the eye; and faith in Christ says that what we can’t see is ultimately benevolence and love. But the journey of faith is constantly challenged by my own mental, emotional, and spiritual conditioning. 

I am okay with this, though. Just as much as my times of feeling abandoned by God have caused me to doubt, my experience with "confident Christians," whose certainty of faith has seemed to be an excuse for cruelty and condescension, has equally made me question the validity of the Christian faith. I don't want a faith that looks like theirs. I want a faith (and life) that looks like Jesus'. Faith is a journey, because it is a relationship. Certainty, like doubt, is also a conclusion.

In the midst of a season of perceived rejection, I once had a therapist tell me that I had “unrealistic” expectations on God. That really shook me. Isn’t it the “unrealistic” or “miraculous” that makes god, God? But John would remind us, “God is Love.” With my “god-barometer” set to an expectation of supernatural miracles, I have completely missed the presence and power of Love.

By limiting God’s presence to looking one way, I’ve robbed myself of seeing God in every way. And when God hasn’t met my very specific expectations, I’ve questioned His reality, rather than my limited perception of reality. But again, I believe in God more than I believe in my feelings about God.

All things were created and exist through Him [by His service, intervention] and in and for Him.
– Colossians 1.16 (AMP)

Because of this, we can allow our doubt to work for our faith. When I encounter my doubt or fear, I try to use it as a platform for my faith, rather than a burden covering it up. As a platform, I can stand on top of it and cry out to Jesus like the father in Mark 9.24, “I believe; help my unbelief!

Seeking God When God's Not There by Josh Pinkston


There are seasons when the most accessible emotion to me is numbness or disorientation. Sometimes they come with a sense of grief. Other times, they seem mysterious and relentless. The old reliable comforts lose their warmth and grow rigidly frail. Relief is difficult to find except by way of distraction, but it is a shallow answer for a deep condition and only painfully prolongs the numbness, incasing it in callousness. It is an arduous season that, I believe, everyone experiences on a cyclical basis.

When I reflect on seasons like these in my past, two instances quickly come to mind:

  1. Years ago, there was a time when I was going through this season of numbness that was especially heavy. Still, I continued in my regular practice of Silent Prayer. Those times were filled with frustration and internal anguish. Eventually though, I had a personal revelation. It came to mind that I was stuck on trying to “hear” God like I had grown accustom to, but God was wanting and teaching me to “see.”

    I had become so used to “hearing” God (sensing the draw of God’s nature in one way or another), that I was oblivious to the fact that my eyes were closed. When there was only silence, I felt abandoned and angry; but I had only forgotten to open my eyes and see. God seeks to make us whole, not remaining internally blind or deaf.
  2. One of the most painful and agonizing experiences of my life was the loss of our first child. The numbness I felt to God’s presence and worth was overwhelming. I prayed and strenuously strained to find the comfort I had known I could find in God’s simple presence. But there was nothing. It was less than nothing. There was a felt absence. It felt as if I were being abandoned and intentionally neglected. It was excruciating. I felt no love, comfort, or peace.

    Something Jerry Cook said years ago has been a guiding light for me, “God is always good. God is always Love. Always work backward from that truth.” So, I persisted in Silent Prayer. It was like sitting in the presence of a shut and locked door with someone looking through the peephole waiting for me to give up and leave. But I knew that God wasn’t wrong; my feelings were. So, I persisted.

    Eventually, I had an awakening: Why would God lessen then pain of our child dying? Was his little, brief life not meaningful enough to feel the agony and pain of loss? No. Of course not. His life was worth mourning and I was trying to use God to numb me to his worth. 

In both of those cases, I was stuck feeling that God is not there. That emotion led me to feel lied to and betrayed. But each time as I persisted, understanding my emotions were what was betraying me, I realized something: God is not there. God is here.

When I can’t be “here,” (meaning: I cannot emotionally and mentally be where I am and in the circumstances I am in) I can’t see, hear, or feel God because God is "here" and I am too busy wishing I was “there.” Silent Prayer allows a stillness for my roots to grow Here, in the present moment. No matter the condition.

Blessed (happy, to be envied, and spiritually prosperous—with life-joy and satisfaction in God’s favor and salvation, regardless of their outward conditions) are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven!
– Jesus, Matthew 5.3 (Amplified Bible Translation)

A Season of "Let" by Josh Pinkston

One of my core Christian values has become "sensitive receptivity." It’s not something I've heard about often, in either culture nor churches, but I’ve discovered that a faith or relationship without sensitive receptivity is riddled with disconnect and self-centeredness. As I’ve learned to actively and intentionally apply it to my relationship with God, it literally changes everything about my life and way of living.

Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants.
– Deuteronomy 32.2

That is one of my favorite descriptions of how God’s voice comes to us: like dew descending on new grass…abundant rain on tender plants. What especially strikes me about this passage from Deuteronomy though is the instruction to Let; "Let my teachings fall like rain and my words descend like dew…” What a gentle and humble request. It’s a revealing insight into the character of God.

Letting God’s influence in my life descend like dew requires the receptive sensitivity I am writing about. It takes sitting, being still and knowing, and being consciously available. Is my life set up in a way that makes me unable to receive God’s gentle whisper? It's a good question I regularly ask myself. I look at my day: How did I wake up? How did I prepare for what’s next? How did I travel? How did I arrive?

Am I moving (mentally and internally) at a pace that does not welcome a gentle descending dew? If so, I must change that. Make an effort. Wake up 20 minutes earlier and let myself spend time cultivating a sensitive to the humble, gentle, and easily ignorable presence and love of God. When I let God be present to me in the morning, it becomes exponentially easier to let God be present to me throughout the day.

Even right now: Let.

Let be and be still, and know, recognize, and understand that I am God.
– Psalm 46.10

What's so Good about Friday? by Josh Pinkston

Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed him.
Jesus replied, “Do what you came for, friend.”

– Matthew 26.49/50


Matthew records Jesus calling Judas “friend” as he is betraying him into execution. Friend. It wasn’t Judas’ actions that made him Jesus’ friend, but Jesus’ own way of seeing him. Nothing Judas could do would have the ability to alter how Jesus saw him. That is freedom.


When someone hurts me, I quickly become blind to everything about them except their ability to wound. It enslaves me to a darkness; an inability to see wholly. And rather than address my lack of vision, I behave as if I’ve already seen enough. What's so good about Good Friday is we’re shown how Jesus was free from this. Judas’ betrayal had absolutely no control over His personal disposition or internal condition. That is freedom.

We confuse freedom with getting, behaving, and feeling however we want at any given moment. What we fail to see is how devoid that lifestyle is of freedom. It reduces our consciousness (the greatest tool of humanity) to an appendage. It leaves us lifeless and thrown about by the utterly chaotic whim of our emotions, when we are so much more than that. We become isolated, condescending, and arrested in development; like an orange tree unable to mature enough to produce oranges.

Jesus brings us a present and radical freedom. Most of us are bound to seeing people and circumstances according to a self-centered value system: Good to me = I’m good to you; bad to me = I’m bad to you. When someone presses the wrong buttons, we spit out bitterness as reliably as a vending machine spits out snacks. It is not freedom. It is mechanical and hopeless.

We’re more than emotional vending machines. What’s so good about Good Friday is Jesus reveals to us that we are able to be free. Free from bitterness. Free from fear. And most importantly, free to Love.