Why Do Christians Celebrate a Murder at Easter?

It’s a disturbing question—perhaps even offensive at first glance.

Why do Christians gather every year to remember the brutal execution of their leader? Why is Good Friday, of all things, called “good”? And why, of all Sundays, is Easter—the day following the remembrance of that horrific death—the most attended church service around the world?

To the outside observer, it seems paradoxical. But to those who have encountered the living Christ, the death we remember on Good Friday is not a tragedy to avoid—it’s a triumph to proclaim.

The Scandal of the Cross

Let’s not sanitize it: Jesus was publicly humiliated, tortured, and executed by the state. Roman crucifixion was intentionally gruesome—a deterrent, a warning. The cross wasn’t jewelry or a religious symbol. It was a method of dehumanization.

And yet, for Christians, that ancient Roman cross stands as the centerpiece of hope.

Because Jesus wasn’t just another victim of violence. He wasn’t caught in political crossfire. He chose the cross. As He Himself said, “No one takes my life from me. I lay it down of my own accord” (John 10:18). What looked like defeat was divine design.

This is the holy mystery of Good Friday: the innocent dies for the guilty. Justice is satisfied, mercy is extended. Sin is condemned not in abstraction, but “in the flesh,” as Paul writes in Romans 8:3.

That’s why Christians celebrate a murder—because that murder wasn’t the end. It was the turning point of history.

A Strange Kind of Good

The term “Good Friday” only makes sense in light of the resurrection. Without Easter Sunday, Good Friday is nothing but a memorial to a good man’s unjust death. But with the resurrection, the cross becomes the doorway to life.

As Jesus hung between heaven and earth, He wasn’t merely suffering—He was initiating victory. He bore the weight of sin, broke the grip of death, and declared, “It is finished.” His obedience was total. His sacrifice complete.

This wasn’t symbolic. It was cosmic.

And because of that act, billions across the centuries now call that gruesome Friday good. Not because the crucifixion was painless—but because its pain had purpose.

When Love Looks Like Loss

We live in a world that celebrates love as sentiment—flowers and warm feelings. But the love of Jesus is blood-stained. It’s messy. It costs everything.

As the Apostle John records, Jesus, on the night before His death, gave a command: “Love one another as I have loved you.” He didn’t just say it—He embodied it. Washing feet. Breaking bread. Carrying a cross.

The kind of love Jesus showed doesn’t flinch at sacrifice. It kneels. It serves. It bleeds.

This is why Christians all over the world gather on Good Friday. Not to relive trauma, but to remember truth—a truth powerful enough to transform our lives, our churches, even our nations.

Sunday Is Coming

Of course, Good Friday isn’t the end of the story.

Sunday morning, the stone was rolled away. Jesus walked out of the tomb—not resuscitated, but resurrected. Glorified. Victorious.

This is the Christian claim: that death is not the final word. That darkness does not win. That resurrection is real.

And that anyone—regardless of background, nation, language, or sin—can be made new through Christ’s finished work on the cross.

Living in Resurrection Light

Easter is more than a religious holiday. It’s the heartbeat of the Christian life.

We remember the murder because we celebrate the miracle. We reflect on the agony because it reveals the depth of His love. And we gather—not to mourn—but to proclaim that our God is alive.

So whether you're leading worship on a crowded Easter Sunday, walking city streets with a megaphone, or sitting quietly at a house church breaking bread—remember this:

The cross is only scandalous if it ends there. But the resurrection ensures that it doesn't.

Jesus was murdered—and we celebrate.

Because through that death, we have life.