Tag: Messiah

And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. And they led him out to crucify him. Mark 15:20

His steps were so heavy on the way to the cross.

Stumbling over dips in the road, my Savior could hardly carry the load.

The load of the cross and the load of our sin.

As I watched, I couldn’t help but stare. I had heard about His trial. That’s why I was here.

I had to know. To see it all for my own eyes.

As He fell before me, I reached out to help Him. How could I not?

He had healed me. Completely. And now they were sending Him to die.

I’d heard the reasons. Lies. All of them. Jesus was God’s Son. And for that, He was to die. The priests must not believe.

As I tried to help, the soldiers shouted for me to back off. I looked into the face of my Savior and all I could see was love.

He saw me help. He knew I cared. I backed away, unsure of what else to do.

As He walked past, I hung my head. Memories instantly flooded back of all I had seen and heard.

I was one of the 5,000 that day. I was stunned at how He had fed us, satisfying my hungry mind and body.

I was in the crowd when Jesus passed through my town. He talked with us, showing such insight and kindness.

I’ve talked with my friend, who knows Lazarus. You know, the man who Jesus raised from the dead. Incredible!

And my father’s friend has known Jesus from a small child.

And just over a month ago, Jesus healed me. It was an old injury, but after talking with us, I simply asked, and here I am.

I believe Jesus is God’s Son. He’s said it. And I believe him. He’s our Messiah. Our Savior. The King of Kings.

And now, Jesus, God’s Son who has done nothing wrong, is walking to the cross. He is walking there to die. And it’s just not fair.

I stop and realize what I must do. I need to be there for Him. He’s been there for me. I owe Him that much.

Running up to the cross, there are still so many people.

Making my way to the front, I see Jesus, my Savior. His body laboring to breathe. Slowly ceasing to live.

I see the soldiers laughing. Casting lots for His garment. I feel so ill, because they are mocking God, Himself.

As I gaze up, Jesus suddenly cries out, “It is finished.”

What, Jesus? What is finished?

The soldiers stop and look as all of heaven becomes dark.

A loud bang echos as if tombs have been opened. Or the temple disturbed. A cold wind whips by and Jesus is still.

I join the weeping as we mourn His death.

A gut wrenching sob breaks forth while my legs give way.

I wish He wasn’t gone. I wish there was a way He could rise from the dead.

I know he raised Lazarus after a few days, but Himself? Could He?…..

Our personal story keeps going, doesn’t it? We have the privilege of knowing the rest. The finale. The GRAND finale.

Not only does Jesus rise from the dead, but His death completes payment for all our sins.

The sins of the entire world. The finality of death is cancelled. There is nothing more important.

Can you imagine being there that day? Finding yourself in the crowd?

What would you have done? What would you have said?

Would you have shouted with the crowd? Cowered back in fear? Stood there till the bitter end, loving Him from afar?

We owe Jesus our everything. Bring yourself to Him afresh this Easter weekend.

Give back to Him your life. The life He died to save.

Photos by Dimitri Kolpakov, Jon Tyson, Alex Noriega, & Aaron Burden on Unsplash