Still, That Guy: Part IV

The Passover is past. The men who died on the crosses are buried. Yet, the numbers of people that seem to think and feel the same as I do is remarkable. Even if it isn’t apparent on their faces, in their countenance, all morning I heard them say so.

In the marketplace one man exclaimed to the group he was with, “…ever since I heard things Jesus said around the village and especially at the temple I see things differently. I can’t explain it, but I feel more hopeful.”

I wanted to ask him more, but that’s none of my business.

Still, I overheard similar comments all over town. “He taught like someone much older,” “…more experienced,” “wise…”

People were confused by the Jesus guy calling out the priests and scribes, how they live as compared to how Jesus lived – and died:

– The priests plotted to kill Jesus’ friend in Bethany, the man Jesus raised four days after he died.
– The priests questioned and threatened the man Jesus gave sight and his parents, the man that was born blind.
– The priests demanded Jesus’ death and freed a known felon.
– Herod actually wanted nothing to do with the Jesus trial – washing his hands of innocent blood when Jesus would not defend himself.
– One of Jesus’ own betrayed him for money, told where and when the Temple Guards would find him – and then hanged himself.
– Jesus’ last words were cries to The Almighty to forgive his accusers, saying they didn’t know what they had done.
– In his life this Jesus fulfilled the prophesies about the Messiah.

Above all, one statement I heard in particular keeps coming to mind. One woman that seemed quite sound and especially wise mentioned that Jesus said to the priests, “…destroy this temple and I shall resurrect it in three days…” She repeated how she somehow knew Jesus wasn’t referring to the building that took 46 years to build.

I wandered the streets with all these thoughts and images on my mind, still hoping to find my friend. I could have started my journey home, but I felt as if I should linger. Surely something important must have come up that we still hadn’t found one another.

While walking I came upon a man. His head bowed, he seemed positively miserable. With all my concerns, the man seemed far worse off than I. For reasons I can’t explain, I wished him a good day. He responded that the day couldn’t be worse, that all he believed in was lost. I don’t know why I didn’t keep walking, but I stopped and listened. And the man kept talking.

He had been one of those guys that traveled with Jesus. Listening to him I became so captivated with his story I couldn’t leave. We sat, he talked and I listened. His stories about that Jesus guy were amazing. I sensed they weren’t mere stories, but facts. But then he came around to his agony today. He said he hid as his friend died; he had denied he even knew Jesus. The night before, hours after the Master had washed his feet, before the soldiers came, Jesus had told him that he would.

“But why can’t I come now, Lord?” he asked. “I’m ready to die for you.” John 13:37 (NLT)

Image courtesy Pixabay

Originally posted on Whats Next 2016 March 26

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This Can’t Be Good: Part III

I can’t make sense of it. I feel as though I can not wake from the strangest dream – a nightmare. All week long I looked and waited for my friend, trusting we will find each other. And yet, I shared the Passover meal with strangers at an inn.

On my way to the temple, desperate to find my friend I had to wait for the ugliest parade procession ever. That guy people talked about all week, paraded through the streets. He was beaten so badly I barely recognized his gruesome image, barely able to drag his cross. Days ago a celebrity and now being treated as a criminal. Some of the same people I saw celebrating him earlier were mocking and accusing him of some vague crimes.

It’s as if people have lost their minds. How I wish I knew what has become of my friend.

Hardly anyone at the temple, I felt lost and desolate. The week certainly did not go as I expected or would have imagined. I wandered aimlessly until I came to the city wall and looked over the countryside. I saw the crowd dispersing from three crosses, a man hanging from each of them. Too far to see clearly, I am certain that guy, that Jesus in the middle. I knew he was in for trouble. But this… Bewildering.

 

 

As I looked on from the wall, the sky seemed to fracture, the earth shook and the world became as dark at night. I was horrified. I lost all track of time. Then all I could think of was to get to the inn for the night.

Confused and shaken, I made my way not remembering how I got there or anything I said. Overwhelmed by the images in my head, the strange, dark weather, the hideous feelings, all I had seen, chilled to the bone despite the warm day, I felt entirely alone among the strangers around me.

I don’t understand. I have done my best to be good and worshiped God as long as I can remember. And yet I wonder if I had only imagined this God. This week seems to be too much for me. I must be tired. I must rest. But I can’t shake the picture of the crucifixion on that hill. God, please help me.

 

“Who may worship in your sanctuary, Who may enter your presence on your holy hill?”

Psalm 15:1 (NLT)

 

Images Google Royalty Free Images/Pinterest 

“Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: “Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole.” Galatians 3:13 (NIV)

 

Originally posted 2016 March 23 on What’s Next