A garden of grief.
Night falls, the silence demands attention.
His friends rest their heads upon the roots of trees; unaware, unprepared.
The silence is broken by a splash of blood upon the dusty ground.
Seeping from the pores of his flesh, his face.
Humanity. He became only to save.
“Get up. Pray,” he demands.
Knees colored gray with dry dust and exhaustion.
Hands shaking with stress.
He pleads, but is denied.
He is obedient.
The thick tension is broken.
A familiar face pierces the darkness, torches following close behind.
Judas.
Friend, follower, traitor, forgiven.
Cold lips touch the cheek of the one he once called teacher.
“A kiss?”
Ambushed and shackled, he falls.
The first beating.
He is obedient.
The air is full of cries for blood shed.
Priests accuse him. Guards abuse him.
His friends watch from a heavy distance.
Alone and unheard, he stands in a courtyard.
He looks in the eyes of confused rulers, his identity unshaken.
“I am.”
The voices prevailed, hell rejoiced.
Delivered to death.
He is obedient.
White stones, wooden posts, guards armor
Stained with his blood.
His flesh ripped from his body.
His bones never broken.
Tool after tool, they lose their breath beating him.
Mary falls to her knees watching
The son she once bathed, unable to stand, unable to see.
The branch of a bush bent to mock his authority
Thorns pierce his scalp, a robe covers his exposed muscles.
He is obedient.
The instrument of death is placed upon his mutilated back.
Making his way through the hateful crowd
He shakes with each step
No strength, no dignity.
The hill. The skull. The final steps.
Tendon by tendon, ripped apart by iron nails.
The weight of gravity tugs his arms from their sockets,
The cross falls into place.
“Father, forgive them.”
Darkness fell over the land and he cried.
His father left him to die alone.
Stripped of his righteous identity, he bowed his head.
Death claimed him and he did not resist.
He is obedient.
The curtain tore.
The ground shook.
The saints walked.
Our savior, dead.
His friends mourned, his mother wept
They held the broken body of Jesus.
Wrapped in clean linen, his body was placed in a tomb.
He is obedient.
Three days passed.
The sun rose and the stone rolled away.
He walked out of the tomb.
He left hell. He conquered death.
His hands now clean, his body now new
He stands healthy, clean, victorious!
Life is his, life is ours.
His reckless love invites us into life everlasting.
He is good.
He is just.
He is love.
He is obedient.
“but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8
