I have imagined the reactions and thought processes of those people involved in the Good Friday and Easter narrative.
I hope that it will assist you to meditate on these events with fresh thoughts.
I
remember….
I
remember that wonderful time more than thirty years ago when my son was born.
There was the brilliance of the angel which shook my very heart, but he
comforted me in the news that I was to be a mother even though I was yet a virgin.
I was very scared, yet his words comforted me. He informed me that God had
entered my womb so that the boy who was to be born was going to save His
people.
When
my son was born, there was the visit by the shepherds. They were so excited
that they rushed and fell down in adoration before Jesus, a gurgling new born.
I forgot about how they were social outcasts in their love and enthusiasm for
their Lord.
Next
came the wise men with their priceless gifts and amazing wealth – and I still
remember those events with such clarity as though they occurred yesterday.
I
recall when Jesus was about thirteen and we took Him to the temple. We had lost
Him and discovered that He was debating with the religious leaders. Joseph (my
husband) and I were so proud that He could hold His own and ask such profound
questions.
And
yet, and yet, it was those same religious authorities in Jerusalem who wanted
Him dead about twenty years later. Was it their own inadequacies? Was it their
own blindness to the truths that Jesus presented?
I
can close my eyes and remember the horrible disfigurement of my son, the Son of
God, who was cruelly beaten and then pinned without mercy to the wooden beams
of the cross on the prominent place outside the city walls. Simeon was right
when he prophesied at Jesus’ dedication that a sword would pierce my heart. It
was the lonely agony, the unquenchable hurt, that only a mother can feel when
she sees her son being killed.
After
His dead body was taken down from the cross, I had a few precious moments of
cradling the One who I had nursed as an infant. People pitied me as the mother
of an outcast, but they did not realise that this was the reason for His mission.
But
now I remember that He was the One who came to save His people for His body is
no longer in the grave and He is risen from the dead. I recall how the
mournfulness of preparing His body for burial was turned into jubilation as He
appeared on the third day.
I
can remember these events with agony, but also with adoration to the Most Holy
One who has conquered death.
Oh
yes, I will remember!
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