I know I am despised. No-one who does what I do can avoid that. You are seen, by your own people as a collaborator, because you collect the taxes from the Romans.
It is also 'expected' by both the Romans & acknowledged by the people that you syphon off some of what you receive to line your own pockets. This I have done over many years - everyone I know does it, it's how we make our fortune.
I have a fortune now, I am a chief tax-collector, I have reached the pinnacle of my chosen career & far from it being the delight it promised to be, it is hollow. I have everything money can buy, yet in reality I have nothing of any worth at all.
Obviously I had heard of Jesus, who hadn't? I had heard of the miracles, of the teaching laced with authority & I admit, I was intrigued. Authority is a strange thing you see, I have authority over servants & minions who work for me, but within my heart I know I am a pretender at authority. I was intrigued to see true authority. So, when I knew He was coming to Jericho, the opportunity was too good to miss really.
I decided to take some time out & simply observe Him, watch Him, see what real authority looked like. I hadn't really bargained for the crowds. I obviously should have done, but I didn't. But, I hadn't got where I was without ingenuity & the ability to think round a problem, so I ran on ahead of the crowd & enjoyed again my boyhood delight at climbing up a sycamore tree. It is amazing how freeing that simple act was. It is as though when I climbed, the years fell away & my life was before me again, as in my youth & joy at both my ingenuity in outwitting the crowd & my hiddenness from them were intoxicating!
Nearer & nearer they came, He was in the midst of them with people all around Him, clamouring for His attention, for healing, for a touch to bring a blessing in their lives. Nearer & nearer they came & all the time I watched, I observed this man of authority & He truly is a man of authority. When you have spent your life emulating something, you know when you've seen & are confronted with the genuine article & in every sense that was what Jesus was!
The crowd stopped. He stopped. Right under the place where I was. I stopped breathing, although I didn't realise I was holding my breath. He looked straight up at me. Others followed His gaze & were surprised at seeing me, but He wasn't. He knew I was there, He'd always known I'd be there you see. True authority.
He looked straight at me & said 'Zacchaeus, I'm coming to your house, come down from your hiding place, come down & change those things which you know you need to & want to change in your life.'
If you ever come upon someone with true authority you do not hesitate. I scrambled down that tree with all the absence of dignity of an adolescent, because that was how I felt in His presence. He knew my name..... He knew my emptiness..... He knew my hearts desire.
He came into my house & ate with us, drank with us. That was the moment my life changed. It couldn't but change. You can't come into contact with genuine authority & it leave you unchanged.
All the townsfolk were incensed at His coming to eat with me at my house & it was at that point I realised that they had no idea how changed I was by my encounter with Him.
I stood, as one does on these occasions, but as I began to speak about giving back to the poor half of what I owned & of making good on any & every crooked dealing that had robbed anyone, the murmuring stopped. They looked at me strangely & I felt.....actually, I felt a minuscule sense of hearing authority in my own voice! Not the sham authority I had spouted most of my adult life which had, for all those years covered over my insecurity, but a standing tall authority which emulated His!
I looked at Him when I realised this & saw in His eyes & in His smile that He knew this too. In response, He declared to my neighbours & townsfolk, 'Today salvation has come to this household, for a true son of Abraham has been reborn to be his true self. For I have come that what has been lost might be found.'
I knew better than anyone the truth of those words, for He had restored to me the ability to be who I really am & stop being the actor I had pretended all my adult life to be.
That's the difference authentic authority makes.
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Thursday, 17 April 2014
Saturday, 29 March 2014
Despair to hope by the way of love Luke 7:36-50
My life hasn't been easy. My father was cruel to me after my mother died & I grew up in a household of men, with four brothers. Each of them learned well from my father to be cruel & life wasn't easy. I was pledged to be married to a friend of my fathers who seemed to be honourable, but used me, casting me aside when he had finished using me & broke off our wedding. My father disowned me, assuming there was something in me that had caused his friend to discard me & I did the only thing I could do, I fell into a life of prostitution. After all, I reasoned, men had used me all my life & been cruel to me, I may as well be paid for it.
So my life went on, from year to year, a relentless, grey sameness, on & on. It had become an existence not a life I led & I thought nothing could or would ever change, that I deserved no less & certainly no more.
I hadn't bargained for meeting Jesus.
I'd been on the periphery of various crowds following him when I had first seen Him. It wasn't just that I had seen Him, but that, despite my being where I always tried to be, in the background, He had seen me. That was what was the undoing of me.
Once He'd seen me, He'd caught my eyes & there was something in His look, something different to every other man I had ever seen, or who had ever looked at me. Men normally look at me like I am a piece of meat with which they satiate their appetite, but they never see me. He'd looked at me & in that one look had seen into my very soul, yet though He had seen everything I am, there wasn't condemnation or loathing, but acceptance & what I knew despite never having experienced it, there was love.
I think it was that which made me go back again & again, each time I knew He was going to be in town. He had become a magnificent obsession for me from that one look. There had been other looks since that first one, each looking deeper & deeper into the fabric of who I really am, ignoring what others think of me. Each look drew me more & more. The compassion, sorrow, love & acceptance in His gaze drew me irresistibly like a moth to a flame.
Then I heard He was going to dinner at Simon's house. I knew Simon & Simon knew me, so did his servants, so I was able to get through the crowds there. I took my jar of perfume with me, for I knew what it was I wanted to do. He was reclining at the table & much talking was going on - Jesus spoke as He always did, answering their questions, asking them questions they couldn't answer.
As I sat at His feet the tears began. I unstopped the bottle of perfume to pour over His feet & as I did so it was like the uncorking of all of my life, all the cruelty, the using & abusing poured out of me in tears as I poured that perfume over His feet. I remember well the moment I realised that although I had brought the perfume, I had forgotten a towel to wipe it away, so did the only thing I could do & let down my hair & wiped His feet with my hair & as I did so, I began to kiss His feet to pour out some of the love & gratitude I felt towards Him.
It was strange because although I knew they were all beginning to look at me & be aware of what it was I was doing, especially as I let down my hair, nevertheless, I knew that where I was, in this place, at His feet was the safest place I had ever been in my life & I had no worries. There were so many tears, on & on through the years of heartbreak, I'd never allowed myself to cry before.
Suddenly I became aware of Simon mumbling to himself, that wasn't unusual, but I also became aware that Jesus was speaking to him.
He began to tell Simon one of His stories, His parables. I stopped crying to listen to Him talk of debts & of debtors, of one man who owed much money & of another who owed little, though neither could pay. When they were absolved from their debt Jesus asked, which would love more. Simon answered that it was the one who had been forgiven more, but you could tell he didn't know what Jesus was talking about & was irritated.
Then, Jesus turned to me, looking straight at me & told Simon that I had been washing His feet, kissing His feet, anointing His feet. Jesus knew the perfume I had used was costly, but He knew too that what I had done in full view of Simon & of all those people was just as costly.
Time stood still & my heart stopped as He looked straight into me & told me that my sins were forgiven because of the great love I had shown. My sins, all of them, every seedy, filthy, perverted sin, He knew them all yet they were forgiven by Him in that one moment. That one moment that changed the course of my life & set me free from my existence to live life & turned all my despair into hope.
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So my life went on, from year to year, a relentless, grey sameness, on & on. It had become an existence not a life I led & I thought nothing could or would ever change, that I deserved no less & certainly no more.
I hadn't bargained for meeting Jesus.
I'd been on the periphery of various crowds following him when I had first seen Him. It wasn't just that I had seen Him, but that, despite my being where I always tried to be, in the background, He had seen me. That was what was the undoing of me.
Once He'd seen me, He'd caught my eyes & there was something in His look, something different to every other man I had ever seen, or who had ever looked at me. Men normally look at me like I am a piece of meat with which they satiate their appetite, but they never see me. He'd looked at me & in that one look had seen into my very soul, yet though He had seen everything I am, there wasn't condemnation or loathing, but acceptance & what I knew despite never having experienced it, there was love.
I think it was that which made me go back again & again, each time I knew He was going to be in town. He had become a magnificent obsession for me from that one look. There had been other looks since that first one, each looking deeper & deeper into the fabric of who I really am, ignoring what others think of me. Each look drew me more & more. The compassion, sorrow, love & acceptance in His gaze drew me irresistibly like a moth to a flame.
Then I heard He was going to dinner at Simon's house. I knew Simon & Simon knew me, so did his servants, so I was able to get through the crowds there. I took my jar of perfume with me, for I knew what it was I wanted to do. He was reclining at the table & much talking was going on - Jesus spoke as He always did, answering their questions, asking them questions they couldn't answer.
As I sat at His feet the tears began. I unstopped the bottle of perfume to pour over His feet & as I did so it was like the uncorking of all of my life, all the cruelty, the using & abusing poured out of me in tears as I poured that perfume over His feet. I remember well the moment I realised that although I had brought the perfume, I had forgotten a towel to wipe it away, so did the only thing I could do & let down my hair & wiped His feet with my hair & as I did so, I began to kiss His feet to pour out some of the love & gratitude I felt towards Him.
It was strange because although I knew they were all beginning to look at me & be aware of what it was I was doing, especially as I let down my hair, nevertheless, I knew that where I was, in this place, at His feet was the safest place I had ever been in my life & I had no worries. There were so many tears, on & on through the years of heartbreak, I'd never allowed myself to cry before.
Suddenly I became aware of Simon mumbling to himself, that wasn't unusual, but I also became aware that Jesus was speaking to him.
He began to tell Simon one of His stories, His parables. I stopped crying to listen to Him talk of debts & of debtors, of one man who owed much money & of another who owed little, though neither could pay. When they were absolved from their debt Jesus asked, which would love more. Simon answered that it was the one who had been forgiven more, but you could tell he didn't know what Jesus was talking about & was irritated.
Then, Jesus turned to me, looking straight at me & told Simon that I had been washing His feet, kissing His feet, anointing His feet. Jesus knew the perfume I had used was costly, but He knew too that what I had done in full view of Simon & of all those people was just as costly.
Time stood still & my heart stopped as He looked straight into me & told me that my sins were forgiven because of the great love I had shown. My sins, all of them, every seedy, filthy, perverted sin, He knew them all yet they were forgiven by Him in that one moment. That one moment that changed the course of my life & set me free from my existence to live life & turned all my despair into hope.
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Thursday, 27 March 2014
The widow of Nain's iWitness account
I am very proud of my son, I guess every mother is really. He's a good boy & he cares for me. He's all I've got since my husband died & I am grateful to God, so grateful.
I remember the day so well when he came home from his work with a fever. We both thought nothing of it & I did what every mother does & gave him broth to soothe his throat & made him comfortable, both of us thinking that the morning would see him improved.
I didn't sleep well that night, maybe in my heart there was something that made me realise this was more than a simple fever, I don't know. I do know that when I woke the next morning to begin preparing his breakfast, there was no sign of him readying himself for the day & when I went into him, he was worse, he was delirious.
That day and the morning of the next day passed in a blur, people coming & going as I had sent word of how ill he was & they came to offer me help & support. Along with others in our family & our neighbours I prayed much that day, pleading with God for him; hadn't He taken my husband, could He not spare me my son?
It was the afternoon of the second day when he died. The lament from those who were with me began & I was grateful for it. I had tears, but no strength to wail or lament, I was numb. The tears I did shed came from somewhere within me that was beyond that numbness, somewhere I presumably could feel the horror of my aloneness amidst my friends & neighbours.
I didn't have time to ponder why I felt hope, because the next words He spoke were to my son, my precious boy. He spoke directly to him, just as though He were waking him in the morning & telling him to rise up for a new day, He told him to rise up from death. My son sat up on his own funeral bier & spoke to Him, just like that, as though it was nothing & he had in fact been woken from sleep. He knew it was Jesus had brought him back to life, he recognised Him, praised God & thanked Him. Then he jumped down from the bier & Jesus gave him back to me. He really did, in every way give my son back to me.
How quickly can the despairing numbness of grief turn to joy? As quickly as the man, Jesus from Galilee speaks the words of life "Rise up!" That's how quickly.
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I remember the day so well when he came home from his work with a fever. We both thought nothing of it & I did what every mother does & gave him broth to soothe his throat & made him comfortable, both of us thinking that the morning would see him improved.
I didn't sleep well that night, maybe in my heart there was something that made me realise this was more than a simple fever, I don't know. I do know that when I woke the next morning to begin preparing his breakfast, there was no sign of him readying himself for the day & when I went into him, he was worse, he was delirious.
That day and the morning of the next day passed in a blur, people coming & going as I had sent word of how ill he was & they came to offer me help & support. Along with others in our family & our neighbours I prayed much that day, pleading with God for him; hadn't He taken my husband, could He not spare me my son?
It was the afternoon of the second day when he died. The lament from those who were with me began & I was grateful for it. I had tears, but no strength to wail or lament, I was numb. The tears I did shed came from somewhere within me that was beyond that numbness, somewhere I presumably could feel the horror of my aloneness amidst my friends & neighbours.
The time came for them to carry him out & there was quite a crowd. At that same level of my mind that was still capable of feeling and of thought, I dimly wondered why there were so many people. Then He appeared. He stepped forward & touched the bier. We all stopped & I looked up at Him. I knew this had to be Jesus, the teacher people had spoken of, the one who healed.
He told me not to weep & somehow even at His words hope began to fill me, because those few words were spoken & filled with a love & compassion deeper than I had ever felt or experienced before.
He told me not to weep & somehow even at His words hope began to fill me, because those few words were spoken & filled with a love & compassion deeper than I had ever felt or experienced before.
I didn't have time to ponder why I felt hope, because the next words He spoke were to my son, my precious boy. He spoke directly to him, just as though He were waking him in the morning & telling him to rise up for a new day, He told him to rise up from death. My son sat up on his own funeral bier & spoke to Him, just like that, as though it was nothing & he had in fact been woken from sleep. He knew it was Jesus had brought him back to life, he recognised Him, praised God & thanked Him. Then he jumped down from the bier & Jesus gave him back to me. He really did, in every way give my son back to me.
How quickly can the despairing numbness of grief turn to joy? As quickly as the man, Jesus from Galilee speaks the words of life "Rise up!" That's how quickly.
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Saturday, 1 March 2014
The crumbs for my daughter.
I knew He was coming our way, I'd heard about Him from so many others & I knew this had to be the Messiah the Jews had longed for. I knew that He had healed so many - lame people walking, blind people seeing, deaf hearing & most importantly demons cast out & the people set free.
He told His disciples that He had only come for the children of Israel, not for the likes of me.
He told me that it wouldn't be right to give a dog like me the food meant for the children.
It was at that point He spoke & told me that my faith was great & that it had been done for me as I wished! I had known that He was her only chance, I had known that He had to be who He said He was, or He couldn't have done what He was doing. Is that faith, or simply truth played out in my tenacity?
That was the thing, that was what I wanted. More than anything in the world that was what I wanted for my daughter, freedom from the demons that possessed her, but He was a Jewish teacher, a Jewish healer, nevertheless, I had to go.
I didn't care what people thought of me, I just went.....such a crowd were following Him, but I didn't care. Knowing I can make myself heard when I need to I yelled with all the pent up years of frustration & grief 'Oh Lord, Son of David, my darling daughter is dreadfully possessed by a demon, have mercy on her & on me.'
To begin with I thought He hadn't heard me because of all the rest of the people around me, but then I heard His disciples asking Him to do something to shut me up! Then I was upset - couldn't He see that I actually believed He could heal her.
He told His disciples that He had only come for the children of Israel, not for the likes of me.
I had to get to Him, I had to keep pushing, because He needed to see just how desperate I was. I finally was allowed to get in front of Him, at which point I dropped to my knees before Him, worshipping Him as the God-Man Messiah I realised He is, but through my worship the prayer that fills my life spilled over.
He told me that it wouldn't be right to give a dog like me the food meant for the children.
Now, I know what I am, I know I am not a child of Israel, I know in many people's eyes I am nothing, so His words did not shock me, but I was angry - even the smallest, weakest pup gets the crumbs that are too small for anyone else, surely I should be allowed to have those crumbs?
I told Him that & I would have stayed there all day arguing with Him, this was my one chance for my daughter & I'd have given everything I had to see her healed.
As I spoke & as I then waited, His whole demeanour changed & He looked at me, looked straight into my soul & I knew from that one look that there was acceptance. Acceptance for who I was, not for who I wasn't! I knew that He didn't see me as a dog really, He saw the longing of my heart for my daughter, but He also saw that I truly believed He was the Messiah of God. I don't know how I knew all this from one look, but believe me or believe me not, I just did!
It was at that point He spoke & told me that my faith was great & that it had been done for me as I wished! I had known that He was her only chance, I had known that He had to be who He said He was, or He couldn't have done what He was doing. Is that faith, or simply truth played out in my tenacity?
Either way, I shall never forget Him because after I had run home, my daughter for the first time was in her right mind - she was completely the child I had glimpsed within her apart from the demon that possessed her.
I knew it, I knew He had done it, even before I had got home, just as I knew that He had recognised me from that one look, that He had seen who I was & that despite what I am, He valued WHO I am.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, 20 February 2014
The lifter of my head - Mark5:25-34
I'd lost everything.
Well, everything that meant anything. My husband had all but gone, for he was an upright man who feared God & who kept the law, so could have nothing to do with me. If you knew the law of Moses you would know that I am unclean because of my illness.
Well, everything that meant anything. My husband had all but gone, for he was an upright man who feared God & who kept the law, so could have nothing to do with me. If you knew the law of Moses you would know that I am unclean because of my illness.
We lived in the same house, my husband & I but that was all. That was all there could be & all there had been for 12 years. Twelve long, draining years. It felt now as though this problem that I had would overwhelm me.
To begin with we had tried, he had tried, the doctors tried, but one by one eventually they would shake their heads, they would look that way at my husband that showed they had no idea what the problem was & how to treat it.
So, life went on.
I had heard about Jesus from someone who had been to the Decapolis towns & had heard about the weird guy who ran about in the tombs near when you get off the boat there & had heard about how this Jesus had healed him! No, really, He had healed him & now this Simon - no-one had even known his name before, was talking to everyone who would listen about his being healed & set free from demons by this Jesus.
Whoever it was that told me this story told it because Jesus was coming here, to our town. I remember thinking 'If only...' but that was followed up by another feeling that grew inside me & I couldn't put away from my mind, 'If I just touch the hem of His cloak....I don't need to bother Him, or even say why I am doing it..I don't need to draw attention to myself..'
Well I couldn't say, could I, He wouldn't have anything to do with me if I said what was wrong & all the people around would step back, being as I am unclean & I just couldn't deal with that on top of everything else. But I could go, I could just touch His cloak. Everyone knew that there would be crowds surrounding Him, no-one need ever know, but I would be healed if I could touch His cloak.
I'm not sure how I knew that or even why I was so sure. Like I said, it was something that grew inside me, a conviction that wouldn't go away, wouldn't be assuaged, ironically similar to my problem!
So, the day came, I joined the crowd, gradually working my way forward towards Jesus. His disciples couldn't even keep people a distance from Him, it was really a wonder He, they & all of us weren't crushed, but it suited my purpose. My one overriding purpose....to touch His cloak. He had Jairus with Him & they were on their way to Jairus' house. I knew his little girl was sick, so I guessed He was going to heal her. Gradually I got closer, closer, missed several times as another arm jostled mine to touch Him, but then, I did it, I touched His cloak!
The world stood still for a minute as the crowd carried on without me. I stood still because I knew I'd been healed. I knew within my body, within my mind, within my heart I was healed. I knew it every bit as certainly I had known I would be if I could only touch His cloak.
I realised then that the crowd had stopped moving & Jesus Himself was asking a question.
'Who touched my cloak?'
My heart was in my mouth, I was certain He meant me.
I didn't know how He knew, but He did know. His disciples began to protest, telling Him that many people had touched Him, the crowd was all around Him. Still He looked, He kept looking over heads, over & over & then I realised I'd have to say it was me. I really didn't want to, I really just wanted to go home, clean & healed.
I knew as His gaze began to move over towards me I had to own up. I had to say it was me. Ok, well I had no idea what I was going to say, I was terrified, but I fell at His feet. The pain, the anguish & all the upset of twelve years poured out of me as I told Him why & how I'd just known if I touched His cloak, I'd be healed & I was healed. He had healed me.
He bent down & lifted my head, oh so gently & tenderly. The look of love & acceptance in His eyes was so powerful it swept away all my fear & worry. He wasn't going to berate me. He wasn't angry at all with me.
Then, He spoke. To me!
What He said will stay with me forever 'Daughter, your faith & trust in Me has healed you. Go now, do not fear this will return, continue in your healing.' I can't describe how He spoke or explain just how different it seemed from anyone else who had ever spoken to me, but His words, His way, was more the defining moment in my life than even being healed, or at least it seemed so to me in that moment.
Since then, well, I have my life back. Where before there was pain & I just kept my head down & did what I could, keeping myself to myself, now, it was as though sunshine had entered into my life. When He had lifted my head, it was as though He had done so for all the rest of my life. I could hold my head high now, I could live life to the full. I think in the Scriptures King David wrote that 'He is my glory & the lifter of my head.' I claim that too for I knew it to be true. He was. He is & always will be.
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To begin with we had tried, he had tried, the doctors tried, but one by one eventually they would shake their heads, they would look that way at my husband that showed they had no idea what the problem was & how to treat it.
So, life went on.
I had heard about Jesus from someone who had been to the Decapolis towns & had heard about the weird guy who ran about in the tombs near when you get off the boat there & had heard about how this Jesus had healed him! No, really, He had healed him & now this Simon - no-one had even known his name before, was talking to everyone who would listen about his being healed & set free from demons by this Jesus.
Whoever it was that told me this story told it because Jesus was coming here, to our town. I remember thinking 'If only...' but that was followed up by another feeling that grew inside me & I couldn't put away from my mind, 'If I just touch the hem of His cloak....I don't need to bother Him, or even say why I am doing it..I don't need to draw attention to myself..'
Well I couldn't say, could I, He wouldn't have anything to do with me if I said what was wrong & all the people around would step back, being as I am unclean & I just couldn't deal with that on top of everything else. But I could go, I could just touch His cloak. Everyone knew that there would be crowds surrounding Him, no-one need ever know, but I would be healed if I could touch His cloak.
I'm not sure how I knew that or even why I was so sure. Like I said, it was something that grew inside me, a conviction that wouldn't go away, wouldn't be assuaged, ironically similar to my problem!
So, the day came, I joined the crowd, gradually working my way forward towards Jesus. His disciples couldn't even keep people a distance from Him, it was really a wonder He, they & all of us weren't crushed, but it suited my purpose. My one overriding purpose....to touch His cloak. He had Jairus with Him & they were on their way to Jairus' house. I knew his little girl was sick, so I guessed He was going to heal her. Gradually I got closer, closer, missed several times as another arm jostled mine to touch Him, but then, I did it, I touched His cloak!
The world stood still for a minute as the crowd carried on without me. I stood still because I knew I'd been healed. I knew within my body, within my mind, within my heart I was healed. I knew it every bit as certainly I had known I would be if I could only touch His cloak.
I realised then that the crowd had stopped moving & Jesus Himself was asking a question.
'Who touched my cloak?'
My heart was in my mouth, I was certain He meant me.
I didn't know how He knew, but He did know. His disciples began to protest, telling Him that many people had touched Him, the crowd was all around Him. Still He looked, He kept looking over heads, over & over & then I realised I'd have to say it was me. I really didn't want to, I really just wanted to go home, clean & healed.
I knew as His gaze began to move over towards me I had to own up. I had to say it was me. Ok, well I had no idea what I was going to say, I was terrified, but I fell at His feet. The pain, the anguish & all the upset of twelve years poured out of me as I told Him why & how I'd just known if I touched His cloak, I'd be healed & I was healed. He had healed me.
He bent down & lifted my head, oh so gently & tenderly. The look of love & acceptance in His eyes was so powerful it swept away all my fear & worry. He wasn't going to berate me. He wasn't angry at all with me.
Then, He spoke. To me!
What He said will stay with me forever 'Daughter, your faith & trust in Me has healed you. Go now, do not fear this will return, continue in your healing.' I can't describe how He spoke or explain just how different it seemed from anyone else who had ever spoken to me, but His words, His way, was more the defining moment in my life than even being healed, or at least it seemed so to me in that moment.
Since then, well, I have my life back. Where before there was pain & I just kept my head down & did what I could, keeping myself to myself, now, it was as though sunshine had entered into my life. When He had lifted my head, it was as though He had done so for all the rest of my life. I could hold my head high now, I could live life to the full. I think in the Scriptures King David wrote that 'He is my glory & the lifter of my head.' I claim that too for I knew it to be true. He was. He is & always will be.
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Friday, 14 February 2014
The resurrection!
We were in the Upper room. It had become where we spent most of our time now..... The new now, after what happened on Friday.
Somehow being together made what we had learned & what we thought & what we'd seen & given our lives to for three years more, well more as though it hadn't been a complete waste of time. We were still raw with all that had happened just three days ago, on Friday. Only three days, three days that might just as well have been three years for it seemed to us then that we couldn't really remember things Jesus had said when He was with us, because you see, Jesus was dead & that changed everything!
All we had given up, all the hope we had placed in Him, gone. We couldn't go back to our lives before because to do so seemed like ultimately admitting that we had wasted 3 years on this man who we thought was the Messiah, who we had thought would save His people, just as David & the prophets had said the Messiah would, but He, Jesus, was dead.
I couldn't believe it was a waste, I couldn't believe it had all been in vain, yet......here we were. We seemed to lurch one after another from despair to grief to acceptance & round again & again.
So, it's Sunday.
It's morning & as we stir from the dreamless sleep of the exhausted we realised that Mary Magdalene & the other Mary had gone. They said they would, they wanted to take the spices to anoint His body. None of the rest of us could face it really, brought it home too much I guess.
Before we'd had time to collect our thoughts even, the two of them arrived back. They were really upset - 'They've taken Him, they've taken Him...He's not there.'
At that point it was Peter & I that looked at one another & without a word, ran. We didn't need to ask who or where, we simply ran as though our lives depended on it, for in every way that is important, our lives did depend on it. We ran to the tomb.
Sure enough, the guards were gone - they'd gone back to the priests we assumed, but what of the body? What was the point of them taking His body? The stone wasn't across the face of the tomb - the stone wasn't even in its groove, it was clean out & leaning against the side of the tomb - I remember thinking how strange that was. All these things run through your mind in milliseconds as you run towards your goal. I got there first, Peter couldn't keep up, but I stood there trying to make sense of it.
When Peter caught up with me, he went straight into the tomb itself. I followed & saw there was nothing there. Well, I say nothing, but there was, there were the burial cloths. I'd seen Joseph wrap His poor broken lifeless body in them on that awful Friday, just three days ago, but here they were folded in this tomb. Even the one we wrapped around His bloodied head was rolled up at the end.
It was at that point like my mind had suddenly been freed to remember what He'd said. You see, He'd said this, He'd said He would rise, He'd known He would die & He said He'd rise. Was it actually all true? Had He risen, risen from death?
Belief & hope flooded my whole body. If He had, if it was true, then everything fell back into place like the picture you see when a mosaic is complete. We'd seen fragments before, but now, I thought, for the first time, I think I am beginning to see something of the full picture. I needed thinking time, so I went home to ponder.
Mary told us she wanted to wait behind at the tomb, she said she felt closer to Him there, even though his body had gone. I'm glad she did because of what happened next.
I hadn't been home too long when Mary arrived at my door, I'd left her weeping by that tomb, but this was a very different Mary, banging on our door & babbling....'Angels....seen Him....risen....like He said'
We all met back then in the Upper room. What a difference from the mood of the morning! We almost didn't dare believe it, but when we all listened together to what Mary had seen - angels telling her He had risen, then turning & seeing Him & Him speaking her name & knowing it was Him just confirmed what Peter & I had almost not dared to believe, despite with all our hearts wanting to believe that all He had said was true. That He is the Son of Man & He has risen from being dead!
But before we could fully digest what had happened to Mary, & what she was telling us, He was there! Honestly, He was suddenly just, there! He looked at us all & said 'Peace to you!'
My first thought was that it really was only 4 days ago when He'd last said that to us in this very room, where He'd explained that His peace wasn't like the peace the world gives. So very much had happened since then, but now, here He was, risen from the dead.
As I looked at Him there was something of that brilliance & radiance Peter, James & I had seen when we went up & saw Him transfigured before us, yet it was Jesus. It was the Jesus we'd all known for so long.
Jesus was alive!
Jesus had risen! How can I describe that to you? It was like having lived all your life in a cave & coming out suddenly into sunlight with all it's warmth & light & beauty.
When He held out His hands & spoke peace to us we could see the nail marks on His hands. I looked at His feet & there the nail marks were. It really is Jesus, I thought.
I wanted to laugh, to cry, to jump, to hug Him, to dance & to ask a million questions, but there was time for that. For now it was enough that He was here.
Jesus was alive!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Somehow being together made what we had learned & what we thought & what we'd seen & given our lives to for three years more, well more as though it hadn't been a complete waste of time. We were still raw with all that had happened just three days ago, on Friday. Only three days, three days that might just as well have been three years for it seemed to us then that we couldn't really remember things Jesus had said when He was with us, because you see, Jesus was dead & that changed everything!
All we had given up, all the hope we had placed in Him, gone. We couldn't go back to our lives before because to do so seemed like ultimately admitting that we had wasted 3 years on this man who we thought was the Messiah, who we had thought would save His people, just as David & the prophets had said the Messiah would, but He, Jesus, was dead.
I couldn't believe it was a waste, I couldn't believe it had all been in vain, yet......here we were. We seemed to lurch one after another from despair to grief to acceptance & round again & again.
So, it's Sunday.
It's morning & as we stir from the dreamless sleep of the exhausted we realised that Mary Magdalene & the other Mary had gone. They said they would, they wanted to take the spices to anoint His body. None of the rest of us could face it really, brought it home too much I guess.
Before we'd had time to collect our thoughts even, the two of them arrived back. They were really upset - 'They've taken Him, they've taken Him...He's not there.'
At that point it was Peter & I that looked at one another & without a word, ran. We didn't need to ask who or where, we simply ran as though our lives depended on it, for in every way that is important, our lives did depend on it. We ran to the tomb.
Sure enough, the guards were gone - they'd gone back to the priests we assumed, but what of the body? What was the point of them taking His body? The stone wasn't across the face of the tomb - the stone wasn't even in its groove, it was clean out & leaning against the side of the tomb - I remember thinking how strange that was. All these things run through your mind in milliseconds as you run towards your goal. I got there first, Peter couldn't keep up, but I stood there trying to make sense of it.
When Peter caught up with me, he went straight into the tomb itself. I followed & saw there was nothing there. Well, I say nothing, but there was, there were the burial cloths. I'd seen Joseph wrap His poor broken lifeless body in them on that awful Friday, just three days ago, but here they were folded in this tomb. Even the one we wrapped around His bloodied head was rolled up at the end.
It was at that point like my mind had suddenly been freed to remember what He'd said. You see, He'd said this, He'd said He would rise, He'd known He would die & He said He'd rise. Was it actually all true? Had He risen, risen from death?
Belief & hope flooded my whole body. If He had, if it was true, then everything fell back into place like the picture you see when a mosaic is complete. We'd seen fragments before, but now, I thought, for the first time, I think I am beginning to see something of the full picture. I needed thinking time, so I went home to ponder.
Mary told us she wanted to wait behind at the tomb, she said she felt closer to Him there, even though his body had gone. I'm glad she did because of what happened next.
I hadn't been home too long when Mary arrived at my door, I'd left her weeping by that tomb, but this was a very different Mary, banging on our door & babbling....'Angels....seen Him....risen....like He said'
We all met back then in the Upper room. What a difference from the mood of the morning! We almost didn't dare believe it, but when we all listened together to what Mary had seen - angels telling her He had risen, then turning & seeing Him & Him speaking her name & knowing it was Him just confirmed what Peter & I had almost not dared to believe, despite with all our hearts wanting to believe that all He had said was true. That He is the Son of Man & He has risen from being dead!
But before we could fully digest what had happened to Mary, & what she was telling us, He was there! Honestly, He was suddenly just, there! He looked at us all & said 'Peace to you!'
My first thought was that it really was only 4 days ago when He'd last said that to us in this very room, where He'd explained that His peace wasn't like the peace the world gives. So very much had happened since then, but now, here He was, risen from the dead.
As I looked at Him there was something of that brilliance & radiance Peter, James & I had seen when we went up & saw Him transfigured before us, yet it was Jesus. It was the Jesus we'd all known for so long.
Jesus was alive!
Jesus had risen! How can I describe that to you? It was like having lived all your life in a cave & coming out suddenly into sunlight with all it's warmth & light & beauty.
When He held out His hands & spoke peace to us we could see the nail marks on His hands. I looked at His feet & there the nail marks were. It really is Jesus, I thought.
I wanted to laugh, to cry, to jump, to hug Him, to dance & to ask a million questions, but there was time for that. For now it was enough that He was here.
Jesus was alive!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, 13 February 2014
An eye witness view of Jesus' crucifixion
We all stood there, at the foot of those three crosses on Golgotha's hill. The sky was dark , almost as if night had come early to cover up this dreadful injustice. It seemed like forever that we stood there, quite a band of us, powerless to do anything other than wait. Despite the horror of the previous few hours where we saw Jesus carry the cross, when we heard his anguished cries as He was nailed, hand & foot to that wretched instrument of torture, when we heard the sickening thud as the cross was lifted upright & sank into it's prepared hole - that thud which will remain with me forever & Jesus' cry as the force of it shook his whole bruised & battered body; when we had heard the priests & the soldiers spit their venom at Him, taunting Him, despite all else they had done, they simply couldn't help themselves being the snakes in the grass they truly are. Despite all of that, we still hoped, still dared to hope that He would come down from that cross, that He would work another miracle, that He would come down in glory with God's angels. But his breathing got worse, more laboured, more painful. Louder & louder until all I could hear were these rasping, gasping breaths in the darkness. Time had no meaning any more....we were there with that sound & it felt like forever.
Jesus looked down at us all & saw His mum Mary there. He looked at John & told him to take care of her. How like Jesus that was - thinking of someone else even though He was there on that wretched cross, dying!
It was 3 o'clock, though it felt later, when suddenly Jesus Himself cried out. The sound of His laboured breathing was bad enough, but to hear that cry of abandonment from Him who spoke constantly of His close relationship with His Father, of that relationship from which He seemed to draw His strength & seemed to submit himself to, was heart-breaking, gut-wrenching & was the most hopeless cry I had ever heard in my life. 'My God, my God, why have You abandoned me?' If God had abandoned Him, what hope for the rest of us? We all knew then I think, that He wasn't coming down, that there would be no glorious angelic visitation, that there was only one way this was going to end.
Someone, I can't remember who, tried to give Him some of that bitter wine they keep by the crosses, revolting stuff, & it was then we realised that the chief priests & some of the others who had insulted Him & spat out their venom at Him were still there, still watching, waiting like we were, but that darkness had hidden them. They clearly couldn't hear Him properly, they were too far away & they thought He was calling Elijah! It would have been funny, them being so clever & all, not even knowing that what Jesus had really said was worse than that, so very much worse.
It didn't matter anyway, they could say what they liked now, do what they liked now, none of it mattered anyway. Jesus was dying. Jesus had been abandoned by God, His Father. Jesus, our hope, our friend, Jesus the miracle-worker, the freedom-giver, the one who they proclaimed as Messiah less than a week ago as He rode into Jerusalem on that donkey. JESUS WAS DYING.
His breathing was getting louder, but there were gaps between the breaths now, horrible deathly long gaps. Then, He cried out again, but this was a different cry, a cry more like the Jesus we knew, a cry that said 'IT IS FINISHED.'
Then.....silence.........for a few seconds which seemed like hours.
I remember thinking at the time that He sounded as though He'd beaten something, but then, that silence........
I know it can only have been for a few seconds, because then we heard the earthquake, we felt the earthquake & there were people shouting about graves being broken open, about the dead being raised to life. Why were they surprised? Jesus had died, but that enormous death, like a millstone thrown into still water caused ripples which were felt as dead people came to life again. Someone came running to those priests & told them that the curtain of the temple had been torn in two from top to bottom - imagine that! Top to bottom it had been torn in two. Just at the time Jesus died, that huge curtain tore.
We had no idea what it all meant, but we knew it was all to do with Jesus, even the priests knew that much, but where it brought a glimmer of light in that awful darkness to us that Jesus was still who He had said He was, it freaked them out! We were all still left though with the fact that Jesus was dead.
Joseph came then, a good guy who had spent time with us & with Jesus. He asked to take Jesus' body & offered a grave, the grave he had planned for his burial. They said he could take Jesus' body, so we all set to brining His body down & preparing it, Joseph had brought the embalming creams & cloths - I remember being so grateful for that. We hadn't thought of it, we were so absorbed in being there with Jesus, we hadn't given any thought to afterwards!
The men took his wrapped body to the beautiful tomb in a lovely garden & placed him in the tomb. We closed it & then waited. I have no idea why we waited then, we were simply numb & wanted even then to somehow be near Him, so we waited, we sat, holding each other in a vain attempt at comfort, though none could be found.
After some little while soldiers came to the grave - we could see those snakes, the priests in the background watching them. If I could have felt anything, I would have felt anger then, but I couldn't feel anything. It turned out that the priests had said we might steal Jesus' body & say He had been raised from death as He said He would. How typical of them to think we would be as devious as them. It hadn't occurred to us, because the worst had happened. Jesus was dead.
This was only the beginning! I know that now, but I didn't know it then. The next three days seemed such a long time until the story continued, but continue it did, because His death wasn't the end, but the beginning.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Jesus looked down at us all & saw His mum Mary there. He looked at John & told him to take care of her. How like Jesus that was - thinking of someone else even though He was there on that wretched cross, dying!
It was 3 o'clock, though it felt later, when suddenly Jesus Himself cried out. The sound of His laboured breathing was bad enough, but to hear that cry of abandonment from Him who spoke constantly of His close relationship with His Father, of that relationship from which He seemed to draw His strength & seemed to submit himself to, was heart-breaking, gut-wrenching & was the most hopeless cry I had ever heard in my life. 'My God, my God, why have You abandoned me?' If God had abandoned Him, what hope for the rest of us? We all knew then I think, that He wasn't coming down, that there would be no glorious angelic visitation, that there was only one way this was going to end.
Someone, I can't remember who, tried to give Him some of that bitter wine they keep by the crosses, revolting stuff, & it was then we realised that the chief priests & some of the others who had insulted Him & spat out their venom at Him were still there, still watching, waiting like we were, but that darkness had hidden them. They clearly couldn't hear Him properly, they were too far away & they thought He was calling Elijah! It would have been funny, them being so clever & all, not even knowing that what Jesus had really said was worse than that, so very much worse.
It didn't matter anyway, they could say what they liked now, do what they liked now, none of it mattered anyway. Jesus was dying. Jesus had been abandoned by God, His Father. Jesus, our hope, our friend, Jesus the miracle-worker, the freedom-giver, the one who they proclaimed as Messiah less than a week ago as He rode into Jerusalem on that donkey. JESUS WAS DYING.
His breathing was getting louder, but there were gaps between the breaths now, horrible deathly long gaps. Then, He cried out again, but this was a different cry, a cry more like the Jesus we knew, a cry that said 'IT IS FINISHED.'
Then.....silence.........for a few seconds which seemed like hours.
I remember thinking at the time that He sounded as though He'd beaten something, but then, that silence........
I know it can only have been for a few seconds, because then we heard the earthquake, we felt the earthquake & there were people shouting about graves being broken open, about the dead being raised to life. Why were they surprised? Jesus had died, but that enormous death, like a millstone thrown into still water caused ripples which were felt as dead people came to life again. Someone came running to those priests & told them that the curtain of the temple had been torn in two from top to bottom - imagine that! Top to bottom it had been torn in two. Just at the time Jesus died, that huge curtain tore.
We had no idea what it all meant, but we knew it was all to do with Jesus, even the priests knew that much, but where it brought a glimmer of light in that awful darkness to us that Jesus was still who He had said He was, it freaked them out! We were all still left though with the fact that Jesus was dead.
Joseph came then, a good guy who had spent time with us & with Jesus. He asked to take Jesus' body & offered a grave, the grave he had planned for his burial. They said he could take Jesus' body, so we all set to brining His body down & preparing it, Joseph had brought the embalming creams & cloths - I remember being so grateful for that. We hadn't thought of it, we were so absorbed in being there with Jesus, we hadn't given any thought to afterwards!
The men took his wrapped body to the beautiful tomb in a lovely garden & placed him in the tomb. We closed it & then waited. I have no idea why we waited then, we were simply numb & wanted even then to somehow be near Him, so we waited, we sat, holding each other in a vain attempt at comfort, though none could be found.
After some little while soldiers came to the grave - we could see those snakes, the priests in the background watching them. If I could have felt anything, I would have felt anger then, but I couldn't feel anything. It turned out that the priests had said we might steal Jesus' body & say He had been raised from death as He said He would. How typical of them to think we would be as devious as them. It hadn't occurred to us, because the worst had happened. Jesus was dead.
This was only the beginning! I know that now, but I didn't know it then. The next three days seemed such a long time until the story continued, but continue it did, because His death wasn't the end, but the beginning.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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