It's Good Friday, and things are anything but good, just like they were anything but good for Jesus. And the song I can't stop singing today is "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam" by The Vaselines. A song I disagree with almost completely theologically by the way, but still like.

It was written by two poor Glasgow kids trying to figure out a music scene and rebel against their parents and made popular when Nirvana performed the song at the peak of their fame, unplugged on MTV, a few months before Kurt Cobain killed himself.

"Don't expect me to lie, don't expect me to cry, don't expect me to die for thee" read the lyrics. "Don't expect me to cry for all the reasons you had to die." The song itself was mocking some British kids' church tune about Jesus wanting us for "sunbeams." Whatever that means.

The line that gets me -- despite disagreeing with the other lyrics -- "Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam, because sunbeams are not made like me." I could go over the myriad reasons I'm so unlike other Christians on multiple levels, and feel lost from them, but that's unimportant.

"Don't ever ask your love of me," croons Eugene Kelly in his Glaswegian drawl, before Frances McKee joins in. The demand of Christ, as laid out by this song, as felt as strongly by Kurt Cobain as me now, is how could Jesus ask all this of us? We didn't ask him to die for us.

I suppose it's ironic for my "progressive" Christianity seemingly taken to the max in its interpretation, my explicit polyamory, my trash tweets, my post-modernist "cherry picking" as some would say, general irreverence -- to believe in a literal Resurrection, but I do.

I feel so strongly, this Good Friday, in the feelings, if not the message, of "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam." I also believe that same message is felt by Christ as he shouts, "Eli Eli Lama Sabachthani?" from the cross. We are abandoned, are we? And yet He still asks our devotion?

Our politics are failing us, our governments are failing us, our religions are failing us, our leaders are failing us, and hope seems so far from the horizon. And God, and our planet, they need so much from us. From me directly! Why should we provide it? I feel that sentiment.

And the answer, I hope, is in Easter. Is in the manifestation of Christ. My suffering, compared to that of others worldwide, is minute and yet I scream at God for abandoning the rest. I scream at politicians who have failed in equal measure. But while I feel angry I push forward.