She laid there in the dark unable to move. Trying to think, to listen for what might have awakened her. Had she slept? Unable to move for the story playing out before her.
Why had she ever begun this journey? In the few years since she had pressed into “Yes” , things continually happened.
Now, this. Holy Week. 1999.
It had never really meant much more than Easter (usually champagne) Brunch and colored eggs for the nephews. Now that they had two Littles of their own it meant a big change in her Life. The little SBC church around the corner had started it all. Now the bigger church where she had been years ago briefly, to be married and He had called them back~full circle. New Pastor, of course, new Life, a new level of commitment for her young sons and her.
She had never heard the story as told this season. Passion. The Greatest Story…
The man Barabbas in the dungeon, awaiting his judgement. Suddenly, from just outside, the crowd erupts shouting his name “Barabbas! Barabbas!” Just as suddenly, Silence. Then “Crucify him!”
Can you imagine? In those moments did his heart almost stop? Did he begin to be sorry for his wasted life? Did he bargain with God? Her heart pounded in unison with his.
She saw his cell swung open- he tensed- prepared for the fight? For flight? Then realizing he was being released in exchange for an innocent man. Charges dropped. What about his bargain with God? she wondered. Did he even think of it again?
In the dark, fully awake while fully dreaming she saw. She felt. The thorns puncture the tender skin. The salty taste of tears mingled with the sting of blood. She couldn’t take any more.
She knew her husband was there, she could hear his breathing. Yet she couldn’t move, couldn’t call out.
She laid there in the dark unable to move. His Eyes gazing into hers. The stripes, the river of blood. The smells, sights, sounds. She was His Mother, she was The Woman at the Well, she was Judas the betrayer, she was the Roman Soldier, she was The One He Loved.
He stumbled and fell. “Stay down” she willed. The woman through whose eyes she viewed handed Him a cloth, then tenderly wiped His brow. The man suddenly yanked from the crowd to carry The Cross. She could see through his fear filled eyes~ horror mixed with compassion turning to wonder.
She tried to rouse herself, her husband. Anyone! It was almost dawn. She lay there unable to move. Her stomach churning with the sounds of agony. Her head pounded by grief.
As the sun dawned through the filmy white curtains a sob broke from her lips. Deep passionate sobs. She had done this. She had mocked Him. She had held the nail that drove into His Hands of Grace. She had betrayed Him with a kiss. She had denied Him three (hundred) times. Her sin had heaped on His bloodied, broken shoulders. Separating Him from The Father.
She had been exchanged for an innocent Man.
Yet He had gazed, through His own tear stained eyes, into hers with such deep compassion, understanding, Love and Forgiveness. Charges dropped.
As The Son rose she knew this Easter was different and she would never be the same.
Blessed is He.
It is Finished. It Is Empty. He Is Risen.
~this is filed under fiction but as with most of my stories, it is True. (My Story, My Journey 3/31/2014) Perhaps this is the year you’ll consider for yourself, the truth of The Greatest Story Ever Told.
Until Next time, Shandra~