A week ago we all, myself included, cheered when the Teacher came to Jerusalem. Life was good, I listened to the Rabbi as I prepared for Passover with my friends and family. I enjoyed listening to Him, everyone did…except the Pharisees, but that’s not new. Then three days ago something changed. Something unusual, something that I cannot explain. I heard that Jesus had been arrested. Why? He did nothing wrong. I went to see Him. As I was on my way, it happened. I saw Jesus before Pilate and, all of a sudden, I had anger, bitterness, hate, and anything vile that could come up in me came. I started shouting with the crowd, “crucify Him, CRUCIFY HIM!” I got louder and louder. I even started cheering when the soldiers started to beat him. I was one of the many who spat on Him. As He carried His cross, I followed so that I could kick dirt into His wounds, tease Him, and spit on Him some more.
I can’t believe it, but it’s true. I don’t know how it could be…unless.…It can’t be…yet, it’s the only explanation. And if that’s true…if it’s true…I’m doomed! He hates me! I’m a dead person walking…I just…I just don’t understand….
Yet, when we got to the hill, something changed. I got close to Him to hurl more insults but instead I hear Him cry out in a loud painful, sorrowful, voice saying “Father, forgive them! They don’t know what they are doing!” At that moment I stopped. I stopped cheering; I stopped following; I stopped being angry. Instead I heard nothing. Nothing but my own thoughts, thoughts and memories of Jesus. I could hear His laugh; see His smile; and feel His love and compassion for everyone. I felt nothing, nothing but numbness, grief, and shame. A shame that was bitter, so bitter that I could taste it, that was so strong that I could feel it. It wasn’t something that came on slowly but one that was consuming me. I thought I was going to die of shame. Jesus had done nothing wrong! What have I done!
I was brought back to reality when I heard Jesus trying to breath. His breaths were so shallow and staggered, it sounded like someone trying desperately to get air but failing every time. His face was near mine and He looked at me. Something inside me snapped and I ran. I ran and hid. I don’t know how long I ran but I know when Jesus died because the Pharisees were dancing and shouting in the streets. I hid in shame and I was hopeless, praying that the ground would swallow me.
But now…but now I hear that Jesus is alive! His disciples are the ones who are dancing and shouting in the streets! I can’t believe it but its true! I don’t know how it could be…unless…He is God! I saw Jesus raise people from the dead and no one has more power than Him…so the only one who could raise Him from the dead…is Himself! That would make Him God! I’m doomed! He hates me! I’m a dead person walking. I know that He spoke of forgiveness but what if that was for the soldiers…they were following orders after all.…Yet, for some reason, I know that he was talking to me. He should hate me but I somehow I know that he doesn’t! Instead there is a deep burning passion and love and forgiveness that I know is from Him! I don’t know how I know that…but I do. I’ve got to find Jesus! I’ve got to find Him and tell Him how sorry I am! I’ve got to find Jesus! I’ve got to tell everyone that HE’S ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
