With Good Friday just two weeks away, the question is how to plan an observance that can compete with what has turned into a national holiday marking the start of a long weekend and for some, spring break.

My first suggestion is not to worry about competing with anyone. I formed that view after recently reading about the popularity of Mars Hill in Seattle—a church quite counter-cultural in its environment.

Nor would I be bound to the noon hour, the traditional time that coincides with the hour of the crucifixion. Just as we can turn the principle of taking a weekly Sabbath into a legalistic rule, I think God cares more that we observe the day than if we adhere to a specific time.

Apparently lots of churches agree. When I looked online I discovered churches across the nation also having Good Friday services at 11 a.m., 1 o’clock and anywhere from 6 to 10 p.m.

One can opt for the traditional, with suggestions available online spanning everything from readings and worship notes to a list of traditional music suggestions for the contemporary church.

One group posted the order of a colorful service that makes use of such colors as green, brown and silver. It also calls for tunes sung by Bebo Norman, Mercy Me, the David Crowder Band and others, which wouldn’t fit traditional tastes.

Drama can be an effective tool, as "The Passion of the Christ" proved in breaking all box office records five years ago. A group called Over the Top Publishing offers a series of sketches, short scenes and monologues with Easter themes.

There is also the community church in San Diego that is planning a prayer labyrinth to promote contemplative prayer, a practice first introduced in 2006. The pastor says it has met with especially positive responses from high school and college students.

One innovative idea I learned about is a symbolic response to Good Friday. To symbolize our gratitude and acknowledge that Christ died for our transgressions, the author suggests having people come forward to dip their finger in red paint and make a mark on the cross.

I especially like the symbolic response because of its participatory nature. That is something that stands out in my mind from the most meaningful Good Friday service I ever attended.

Sponsored by a group of country churches, it involved various volunteers carrying the cross up a hill before erecting it at the top in a re-creation of Calvary. When my turn came, I noticed how heavy that cross was—after awhile, it hurt.

In what I consider a divinely-timed incident, this took place after several weeks of fatigue and anxiety that I couldn’t rationally explain (and some 15 years later I can’t tell you what I was upset about.)

Yet, after carrying that cross partway up the hill, it’s as if Christ removed the burdens I had been carrying. The mysterious ailments that had put me in bed one afternoon that week faded away.

I’m not suggesting that a cross-carrying exercise is the prescribed way to observe Good Friday. But if people can get a glimpse of what Jesus suffered on Good Friday, it will change their lives.