Good Friday: The Ending That Started It All

A Love Letter to Those Loving Someone Through Addiction

The cross didn’t look like victory.

It looked like death.

Failure.

Like love had lost.

And maybe you’ve felt that, too.

You reached your limit.

You drew a line.

You said “enough.”

And it felt like you were giving up instead of holding on.

But what looked like the end… was actually the beginning.

The Day Everything Fell Apart

I remember someone telling me at one of the darkest points in my marriage,“Sometimes, with God, it’s hard to tell the good news from the bad news.”

At the time, it felt like my world was crashing down.

My husband had left—deliberately, dramatically, with every intention of making it hurt. I was shattered. I was sure it was over. We had reached a point of no return.

But God wasn’t done.He was just getting started.

Six weeks later, he returned and knew that something was different in me. God had been at work in my heart and was now working in his.

We recommitted to our marriage and to doing it Jesus’ way.

That was over 25 years ago. And we’re still here—still loving, still learning, still leaning on grace.

When Addiction Entered Our Story

That same truth—the one I first learned through heartbreak in my marriage—would show up again in the middle of my daughter’s addiction.

She was using meth.

She was homeless.

She passed out in a gas station from malnutrition, in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in town.

She was arrested.

Then came the news that she was pregnant.

Each development felt like another nail in the coffin of my hope.

I thought she had ruined her life.

I couldn’t imagine a way back.

But God could.

He knew that that baby would be the thing that would motivate her to get help. She had been bounced around in and out of foster care before we adopted her and she knew she did not want that for her baby.

Five years later, she is clean.

She’s a wife...

A mother of three...

A living, breathing reminder that our worst moments are not the end of the story.

He Works in the Dark

There’s a quote at the end of Cheaper By The Dozen, a book written by Frank B. Gilbreth Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey, that stopped me in my tracks. After the unexpected death of their father, the authors write this about their mother:

"Now, suddenly, she wasn't afraid anymore, because there was nothing to be afraid of. Now nothing could upset her because the thing that mattered most had been upset. None of us ever saw her weep again."

When I heard it, I knew it was one of those Godwink moments - a whisper from Heaven saying, You’ve lived through some of the hardest parts already. You know I’ll carry you through whatever comes next.

And He has.

Every single time.

God does His deepest work in the dark—not in the spotlight, not on the mountaintop, but in the shadows where no one sees and nothing makes sense. Think about the tomb. No one was there to witness the resurrection happen. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t public. But it was the most powerful moment in history—and it happened in the dark. That’s how He moves. Quietly. Faithfully. In the places we can’t explain. When we think everything is over, when we’re too tired to pray or hope or even breathe right, He’s doing Holy work behind the scenes. Work that heals. Work that restores. Work that only God can do.

I’ve learned that darkness doesn’t mean God is absent. It means He’s close enough to whisper. When we’re stripped of all the things we used to lean on—our plans, our strength, our ability to fix what’s broken—that’s when we finally reach the end of ourselves. And right there at the end… is where God begins. The dark might feel empty, but it’s often where new life is forming. Just like a seed buried deep in the soil. Just like Jesus laid in the tomb. Or like a soul finally reaching the end of itself and crying out for help. It may look like death, like failure, like all hope is gone—but with God, the dark is never the end. It’s the place where resurrection starts.

It Is Finished

The cross wasn’t the end of the story.

It was the moment redemption was born.

Good Friday reminds us that the worst thing is never the last thing.

God does His deepest work in the dark.

So if you're sitting in heartbreak, silence, or fear today…Hold on.

The pain you feel might just be the moment right before the breakthrough.

“It is finished.” – John 19:30

Not you’re finished.

Not they’re finished.

The power of sin.

The curse of death.

The lie that says God has given up on your story.

That’s what was finished.

And resurrection is just around the corner.

Sunday is coming…

Reflection Questions

1. Where in your life does it feel like something is ending?  Can you recall a time when what felt like the end was actually the beginning of something new?

2. What “dark places” are you inviting God to work in right now?

3. How does knowing Jesus understands heartbreak and betrayal comfort you in your own struggles?

4. What would it look like to surrender your fear or despair to God today?

A Good Friday Prayer

Precious Heavenly Father,

Today we remember the cross. The silence. The grief. The pain that looked like the end.

We bring to You the places in our lives that feel like Good Friday—broken relationships, prodigal children, hopeless diagnoses, overwhelming fear. We bring the pain we cannot fix and the stories we cannot rewrite.

Jesus, You understand our sorrow. You entered into it. You bore it. And You finished the work of redemption with love nailed to a tree.

Help us trust that You are working even when we cannot see it. Remind us that the dark is not the end—because You are a God of resurrection.

Strengthen every weary heart reading these words. Bring peace to the one holding onto hope by a thread. And for every addicted loved one we’re praying for—we ask that You would meet them in the dark and begin Your work of redemption there too.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.