Good Friday?

My Children - Today is known as Good Friday.  Can someone tell me what's good about it?  As far as I'm concerned this is the most difficult day of my life.  The Roman Guards have taken me.  They beat me with a whip having a metal barb attached.  It hurts, a lot.  I weep.  Why Father, Why?  Why is this being done.  Why am I the sacrificial lamb for all humanity?  Crown me the king of kings with a crown of thorns?  Is this some kind of joke?  My movement is being mocked.  Can these people show no mercy?

Nothing is as bad as the cross and what happens on it.  First off, I am beat up, bloody and wearing a the crown of thorns.  I can barely move.  I've been tortured to the brink of death.  Now they expect me to lug this big ol' cross made from a tree through town?  From my carpentry experience, the cross should have been built a little better.  Anyone can cut a tree stump and tie it up with leather bands to make a cross.  It takes a real craftsman to build something functional, sturdy and yet aesthetically pleasing.  Peeling the bark and sanding the wood would be a nice touch, too.  Can't a guy get a break around here?

My body is done.  The cross drops and I collapse on it.  The Roman guards tie me to the cross and put nails through my hands and ankles to secure me to the tree.  The tree is raised.  I weep - it hurts so bad.  I wish I was dead.  Tears are running down my bloodied face.  The salt in the tears makes for excruciating pain on the open wounds.  I hope you people know what I am going through for you.  I let out a yell sounding like a wounded animal.  My flesh is torn, blood is coming out.  This is it, the end.

The guards lower the cross, unfasten me and place me in a stone tomb.  The tomb is sealed.  I am dead.  All...  for... you...