Dear Friends:

SATURDAY—the day after Jesus died

Lost. Confused. Overwhelmed. Hopeless.

I don’t know how else to describe the way I am feeling. The past few days have been a rollercoaster of emotions. Less than a week ago, I followed Jesus and His disciples into Jerusalem. It was a celebration parade. People were laughing and singing, shouting out praises to God. Jesus had arrived in the holy city riding on a donkey. Any good Hebrew knew what that meant. The Prophet Zechariah had foretold about the Messiah riding on a donkey. As Jesus entered Jerusalem, we were all waving our palm branches and shouting out “Hosanna!” Some of the Temple priests and some Pharisees confronted Jesus telling Him to have us quiet down. Jesus told them that even if we were silent, the rocks and stones would be shouting out the praises of God. It certainly appeared as if the people were ready to proclaim Jesus as the new King.

The next couple of days Jesus went to the Temple. He watched as the moneychangers cheated people as they purchased their animals for sacrifice. Jesus could only take so much. He rushed to the tables in a fit of righteous anger, brandishing a whip and overthrowing the business tables. “You have taken my Father’s House of Prayer and turned it into a den of thieves!” he bellowed. I have never seen Jesus that angry. During His outburst, I saw some of the Temple priests gathered together. They appeared to be discussing what to do about Jesus, who was certainly a threat to them because He was drawing the attention of the Romans. It would not take much disorder for the Romans to come down hard on all of the Jews.

Jesus also went to the Temple to offer His teachings to the people. As usual, the priests and the Pharisees tried to lead Jesus into answering their questions in such a way that they would trap Him. If He answered one way, the people might turn against Him. If He answered another way, the Romans could charge Him with treasonous behavior, which would result in His death. But also as usual, Jesus was simply to wise to be trapped by the questions of the Pharisees. What an amazing Teacher this Rabbi was!

On Thursday, we would be preparing for the Passover, so Jesus instructed some of His followers to secure a room for the celebration and prepare the meal. That evening we gathered in an Upper Room for the celebratory meal. The mood was a bit tense. The confrontations with Temple leadership, and the fear of the Romans were in our minds. We had also pondered why Jesus had not made His move to proclaim Himself King. The crowds that were so large and vocal earlier in the week had fallen off noticeably. There was also a bit of infighting between the disciples, so we were all a bit distracted. We took our place at the table without taking the time to wash our feet before dinner. There was not a servant around to do this menial task, so we just ignored it. Maybe none of us wanted to play the role of a slave. All of a sudden, Jesus stood up, took off His outer-garment, wrapped a towel around His waist, and stooped in front of each of us to wash our feet. This just wasn’t right! Jesus was our Teacher, our Rabbi, our Master, not our servant. Yet, here He was, kneeling in front of each of us, washing our feet with a look of deep love on His face. I was so embarrassed about Him washing my feet. But He spoke to us when the footwashing was completed, saying that our task was to love one another as He had loved us! He told us that if He, our Master, washed our feet, then we should treat each other in the same manner. We should be as servants to one another and to others. This, He said, was the way to show love. He told us that people would recognize that we were His followers by the love we would show to everyone! When we had our meal, Jesus broke the bread and told us that this was His body. And when He poured the wine, He told us that this was His blood, shed for us. We did not understand, but He told us that soon we would comprehend the meaning of His words.

We went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. It was late. We were so tired. We kept falling asleep while Jesus prayed. Soon, there was shouting as a crowd of soldiers came toward us. Out of the crowd stepped Judas Iscariot, one of the disciples. I did not understand why he was with this crowd, and I could not make out the conversation Judas had with Jesus; but I saw Judas kiss Jesus, and at that moment the soldiers approached Jesus and arrested Him. Many of us scattered, worried that we, too, might get taken prisoner.

The next morning was a nightmare! Apparently, Jesus had been charged with a crime, and the penalty would be His death in the most gruesome way imaginable. Jesus would be crucified, hung on a Roman cross until He died. The pounding of a hammer drove the nails into His hands and feet. Each thud of the hammer was like my heart was being pierced by those nails. I looked around to see if any of Jesus’ disciples were present. I only saw John, and a few other of His followers, including Mary, Jesus’ mother, and Mary Magdalene, and a few other women who were all weeping uncontrollably. I was trying not to cry, but I was losing that battle. My eyes filled with tears, and my heart overflowed with sorrow. How could they do this to Him? He was a man of compassion and love. When He laughed, all of us laughed with Him. He reached out to everyone. He healed the lame, the blind, the leprous. He offered words of love and understanding to even the hated Samaritans. His parables had taught us about the love of our God and what God’s Kingdom would be like. He showed us what true love and devotion looked like. Even from the cross, He somehow found the strength to shout out a word of forgiveness for those who were killing Him. After hours and hours hanging on that cross, I heard Him almost victoriously cry out, “It is finished! Father, into Your hands I commit my Spirit!” And He breathed His last, and died.

Two men, Joseph of Arimathea, and a Pharisee known as Nicodemus, took His body down from the cross, and made arrangements for Jesus’ burial. They did so hurriedly, as Sabbath was coming soon.

So here I am with a mixture of emotions, trying to make sense of it all; trying to find even a shred of hope. I am lost and wonder what possible good can come from this.

The Crucifixion is at one and the same time a mirror held up to humanity, making plain our inhumanity, and is a self-portrait of the God who willingly suffered at our hands to redeem us, to change us, and to save us from ourselves. If we are honest with ourselves, we can see ourselves in the crowd at Calvary. What do we see? We see a God who suffers as a result of our sin, and who is willing to die to save us from ourselves. We see in the cross our need and God’s gift. And so we pray: “Forgive me, Lord. Heal me, Lord. Help me, Lord, that I might, from this day on, follow in Your way. Amen!”

Shalom,
Pastor Tim