Can you imagine what it must have been like after the crucifixion for the apostles and followers of Christ prior to Jesus resurrecting from the dead? Can you imagine the grief and questions and thoughts that raced through their heads? If we were to have interviewed a follower, maybe it went something like this… (This is simply fictitious.)
I remember the day someone mentioned His name to me… They spoke of Him with such joy, conviction, love and excitement that it couldn’t help but make me curious, I had to see for myself… So, I went to hear His preaching, and I was amazed!
WHO WAS THIS? AND WHY DID I HUNGER FOR MORE?!
There I was in the midst of the biggest crowd of people I had ever seen, yet His Words made it seem as if He was speaking directly and only to me. It was as if He KNEW the deepest, innermost thoughts within me. He knew me intimately, to the point where if He wasn’t speaking in such love I would have been embarrassed. He was speaking in a way that was not accusatory, but lovingly, knowingly in a way that I could receive and acknowledge the things within me that needed changing. An intimacy that made me hunger for more time with Him. So, I decided I simply had to leave everything behind and follow Him. It didn’t matter where He went, I needed Him. It wasn’t even a hard decision, I knew that I could not continue on in my mundane life, His teachings revived me, encouraged me, I would even go as far as to say they healed me in a way I had never known I needed to be healed. I was drawn to Him, and I simply didn’t want to EVER know life without Him again. He WAS the Way, He WAS the Truth, He WAS the life. Honestly, though I am trying to convey in words how He made me feel, they seem so inadequate. You really HAD to be there to experience Him for yourself. As I occasionally looked to my left and to my right it was apparent to me that I wasn’t alone in what I was experiencing. I can’t speak for those that were around me, but it felt like we were one in accord, captured by His every Word. His teaching of scripture was in a way that we could understand it in a way that was never taught to us before. I wanted that ability! To know scripture as He knew it! To feel the love of the Father that He portrayed. That is why I stayed, that is why there truly was no other choice but to follow Him and follow Him I did! He had the Words of life, He had what I needed, and I had to continue on, wherever He went, I simply followed.
I’ll never forget the day they took Him. I’ll never forget the pain and anguish I felt as if it was happening to my own personal self. My astonishment, confusion and sorrow at seeing this Man Who had never lifted so much as a finger at us, except in love be dragged away as the worst kind of criminal. For the first time in my following Him, I was afraid – REALLY afraid. I wanted to help Him, but I didn’t know how. It was surreal, like a bad dream that I couldn’t believe was taking place before my very eyes. To see something done to someone that is so horrific that you become frozen in disbelief. To see people, including those who were closest to Him scatter made me feel small and vulnerable and helpless. Why was this happening? This Man Who I had seen do the miraculous, not only with His Words, but with His actions. He fed us with five loaves and two fish, I SAW them multiply! He fed us ALL! Cries from this SAME crowd who had previously thrown down palm branches upon the pathway He tred, seated on top of a donkey, days earlier crying out,
“Hosannah in the highest Blessed be the name of the Lord!”
In worship, now had turned to ugly chants of:
“Crucify Him! Crucify Him!”
They beat Him so badly He was almost without recognition. They had placed a crown of thorns upon His head, pressed down and watching Him was just about more than I could bear. The blood dripped from His head into His eyes, His back was torn open, flesh shredded and the horror and disbelief that He was STILL able to stand while carrying this huge cross was unbelievable in and of itself. Yet He said not one word! NOT ONE WORD. I could not fathom all I was witnessing; I could not get myself to do anything to help. What could I have done? Yet this Man had helped SO many things within me and I yearned to help Him with EVERYTHING I was yet fear as to what would happen if I tried overwhelmed my desire to help. SO, I did nothing but look on in horrid fascination, thinking it couldn’t get much worse than this… Yet it did. It got MUCH worse. I was pushed along with crowd blindly following as they had Him continue forward, to my shame and astonishment and I might add, relief the guards made a man take the cross and carry it for Him, as He stumbled and almost fell under the weight of its heaviness. Then we reached the place where the worst began… I can only tell you that if I, a mere observer could tell you “The worst” as someone watching this horrific event happen before my eyes, I cannot even comprehend being the One Who it was happening to! The man carrying the cross for Him, dropped it down with a thud and as quickly as it hit the ground the guards were violently forcing Him to lie upon the cross, holding His battered, bleeding body against the roughness of the wood, forcing each of His arms to be stretched wide and holding His hands, palm up to be nailed with the biggest nails I’ve ever seen to make Him one with the cross. It seems selfish for me to say, I thought I would pass out at the horror of what I was witnessing. Yet still they went on, crossing His feet at the ankles and driving a nail through them and then lifting that cross up high with Him hanging upon it. I tell you it was all inhumane. How could one human do it without ANY show of remorse to another?
I was ashamed of myself because I couldn’t look away, I was mesmerized. Honestly, the horror of it all will play before my eyes all the days of my life. I will never forget it. I will never be able to make sense of it. Never. But I stayed steadfast. There were two other men hanging on similar crosses each at both sides of them. Which in itself was tragic, I didn’t know why they had been put up there, but while I didn’t know their story, I had been there throughout the days of His ministry to know His, and I knew without a shadow of doubt that this was a grave misjustice. He didn’t deserve this in any way, yet through the taunts and jeers of:
“If You are the Son of God, why won’t You save Yourself?!”
He remained silent, enduring it all. And my heart hurt for Him, strangely enough it hurt for me and for all those witnessing this spectacle before us. We stood there, waiting and I cannot tell you what it is we were waiting for… Maybe it was thinking He would save Himself. Maybe it was the shock and awe of it all. But time ticked on, and I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. It felt as if time had stopped. I was shocked by the mockery of the one they said was a thief who, even in the midst of being nailed to a cross and subjected to die taunted him. The man, also a thief on the other side of Him tried to get the first man to stop the taunting, sorrowfully confessing that they deserved their fate, while He did not. I was enthralled when his response to that thief’s request that He would remember Him when He entered His kingdom, that He would turn in response and say:
“Surely this day you will be with Me in paradise.”
At one point, I don’t know how in spite of everything He had endured, He turned His thorn crowned head looking at those who were situated close to where He hung. His sorrowful eyes captured the eyes of a woman who was sobbing as though her heart was breaking, she was situated almost directly at the foot of His cross, I recognized one of His inner circle followers with his arm around the woman, clearly trying to comfort her although from the anguish in his face having a hard time giving her that which he himself was struggling to have. As He hung from the cross looking down at them, He said:
“Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your mother.”
I thought with hearing this statement, I could not possibly be any more astonished than I already was, here hung this dying Man, putting His own torment and pain aside to bring words of comfort to whom I could only assume was possibly His mother. Words that He clearly meant to give them comfort. Provide them with a release. Their grief etched painfully upon their faces, they tried to appease Him by accepting His benediction with nods, but I could tell their pain of witnessing His pain could not be appeased. It was so beyond me to fathom how they were able to get through this, being in close association with Him, whereas I, merely a follower Who had been greatly touched and moved by His ministry was struggling with simply being a witnessed member of this event as one in the crowd of many. Yet none of us tried to stop what was occurring, we were helpless and stood transfixed.
Time continued to drag on and I just wanted it to be over for Him. At one point He lifted up His head and said:
“I thirst!”
There was a vessel full of sour wine and one of the guards put it on hyssop and lifted it to His mouth. After He had received the sour wine, He declared:
“It is finished.”
And then bowed His head and gave up His Spirit. And you could feel the atmosphere change… Change in the air… And most definitely, a change in the sky… If I had to define what I was witnessing, I’d have to say that the hair on my arms stood up, the sky looked unbelievably angry, as if God Himself was rendering it… It grew unbelievably dark. A sign of divine judgment. And I watched those around me disperse, I myself was riveted, my eyes not believing or willing to accept all that I had witnessed. Those closest to the cross were oblivious to all but the man, whose head now slumped forward onto His chest, still hanging loosely from the cross. In disbelief, I watched as a soldier used a spear to jab His side, watching as a flow of blood and water poured out. And then I had had enough. On rubbery legs, not knowing just where I could go to get away from the horror of the day, the scene playing again and again over in my head. I left. Blindly making my way to where I knew not. From the moment I first had heard Him, He had become my sole purpose. My sole reason. The answer to ALL my questions. My peace, His teachings having filled me with the most incredible source of joy. I felt gutted now. Empty. Without purpose. Without direction, And to be honest, I couldn’t imagine going on without Him. For HE was the answer and now, all I felt was an overwhelming amount of loss and confusion.
I got to thinking that perhaps I could draw comfort in finding His followers, the ones that were part of His inner circle. Surely, they could help me comprehend all that had occurred. But everyone had dispersed and to where I knew not. surprisingly, I was able to find a room – don’t ask me how, my mind was in a blur. I lay down on the bed in a fetal position and closed my eyes, even closed the scenes of the day repeated non-stop over and over again. I just wanted peace, to forget, to drift off into oblivion. Finally, in sheer exhaustion, I fell asleep. Periodically, I would wake up, remember and then drift back to a troubled sleep. I was not able to find the will or the strength to get up and groggily opened my eyes to someone firmly shaking my shoulder. Demanding that I wake up. Frowning, while trying to rid myself of the fog in my mind. I asked them what it was they wanted.
“It has been three days!”
The irritated innkeeper said, still shaking me and demanding that I get up.
“Did you think you could stay forever?! Raise yourself up, pay me and be on your way!”
I had no choice but to do as he asked, still having no idea where to go and what to do with my life now that my purpose in life was gone. How does one go back to how things once were before following the Messiah? I had no idea. I was incredulous that I had been out of it for THREE days! Running my fingers through my disheveled hair, looking for the first time down at my crinkled clothes, I stepped forward no longer carrying which way I went. At that very moment, I was almost run over by an enthusiastic, joyful person who in sheer glee reached out to me, a mere stranger, grabbing me by my both my shoulders shaking me until I’d thought I’d fall, declaring:
“Have you heard?! He has risen! He has risen indeed!”
“Who has risen?”
I responded irritated not really caring. My sorrow not to be interrupted by someone else’s good news. Fruitlessly I tried to withdraw His hands off my shoulders. But He would not stop! He simply hugged me! Can you believe it? He hugged me?!!!
“The Messiah! He has risen indeed!”
Slapping me soundly on the back in joy, he took off down the street, declaring this news to any and every one he encountered.
I stood transfixed. He has risen? Slowly, I felt a warmth of relief and soothing feeling of joy begin at the very bottom of my belly coursing its way up to my chest, continuing straight up to my head. I don’t know how I knew it – but I knew it to be true! Without a shadow of a doubt! My faith, my joy, my purpose resurrecting out of the depth of what once was sorrow. And I lifted my hands in praise, bellows of laughter and joy flowing from my belly out of my mouth. I didn’t need to see Him to believe it! I should have believed it ALL along!
JESUS HAS RISEN! MY SAVIOR, MY LORD! MY REASON! MY PURPOSE! LIFTER OF MY HEAD! MY TEACHER! MY EVERYTHING! HE WAS ALIVE.
And I tell you, with everything that I am – there IS NO greater joy that can flood your soul, than choosing to follow Him ALL the days of your life.
HE LIVES AND HE REIGNS! JESUS IS ALIVE! PRAISE BE TO GOD FOREVERMORE!
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