I had to avert my eyes when the soldiers drove the spikes through. Jesus screamed in pain. The blood flowed forth. With each moan and cry uttered by Him, anguish filled me as if I were being crucified. When the cross was raised and set into place, I gazed upon His face as tears ran down my cheeks. I waited and hoped. Surely, He would perform another miracle as I had witnessed so many times before. Surely, He would not stay on that cross! ‘Jesus, come down from that cross!’ I had no strength to shout those words, but they were loud within me. Then I saw Him move. Hope filled me. He was about to come down from the cross and live! But no, He only shifted His weight slightly, pushing Himself upwards a bit in order to breathe. He did this a few times as did the two thieves beside Him. Each time He moved more blood flowed from the wounds. Although He struggled to breath and His voice was weak, He spoke to one of the thieves. He also spoke to His mother and to John. And I thought, now He will come down. But no, He did not. His last words were ‘It is finished.’ His head bowed in death. Deep grief, despair, and hopelessness filled me. I fell to my knees, weeping loudly, my face buried in my hands. I don’t remember much after that. However, I do remember someone pulling me gently up and with their arm around me, escorted me home.
I remained in bed for several days trying to make sense of what had happened. He did many miracles and spoke with wisdom and authority. Thousands believed Him and followed Him. As did I. Peter said He was the Christ. Was He? He died. How could He die if He was the Christ, the Messiah? Where was our help now? Who could save us? I was so confused.
Then there was a sudden and frantic pounding on the door. The disciples rushed in and exclaimed that Jesus had appeared in their midst while they were secretly meeting in a room; hiding from the Jews. He stood before them alive and well and spoke to them and showed them His wounds. Mary also had seen Him and had spoken to Him. I wanted to believe their news, but I thought it must be their deep sorrow causing them to hallucinate.
Oh, it was too much for me. I saw Him die; a horrendous death on a cross reserved for criminals. He didn’t survive. He died and so did the two thieves beside Him. But the disciples danced about the room, laughing and repeating “He’s alive! He’s alive!”
A few days later, I too saw Jesus! He spoke to me. He let me touch His wounds. I shouted, “My Lord and my God!” I almost collapsed onto the floor but one of the disciples caught me. Then suddenly everything was crystal clear in my head. All His miracles and teachings, I understood so much better. He truly was and is the Messiah! He’s alive! He’s alive!
I was not able to contain myself for I was renewed and overflowing with unspeakable joy. I had to tell others the great news that Jesus lives and pardons sin. I travelled much, speaking to thousands of people about what Jesus is really like – for I knew first-hand – and about the wonderful eternal life awaiting them. Repent, believe He is the Messiah, accept Jesus as your saviour and live! Yes, live! For Jesus lives! Halleluiah!
Shirley, I am really moved by your post about Thomas. You made him come alive.ReplyDelete
You took me right there with Thomas! And I hadn't considered that Thomas remained in bed for several days. It makes me connect more with all what the disciples went through.ReplyDelete
You made it clear, Shirley, how strongly the crucifixion would affect the disciples--mentally, physically, spiritually. Yes, it was enough to make a person physically sick enough to take to one's bed with grief. Yet Thomas had to get out of bed and see for himself that Christ had truly risen. Your story adds to our understanding of what the crucifixion was like for the friends and followers of Jesus.ReplyDelete