It was quite a night.
Supper with friends, the washing of disciples’ feet, an air of destiny’s call.
“One of you will betray me,” He said, to the protestations of all but one.
To Judas he said, “What you do, do quickly, and quickly it was done.
Peter protested. “I’ll never betray you, Master. I will die with you,”
His spirit said, but Jesus knew better, “You’ll deny me.
“Before the rooster crows, you too shall betray me,
not once, but three times.” I know.
And it was so.
They went to the garden to pray, at least Jesus did, sweating, as if it were, with drops of blood.
“Father,” he said, while his disciples slept, eyes heavy, their own betrayal of the flesh,
“Let this cup, this sacrifice, pass from me,”
He pleaded with His Father, the Lord God Almighty.
Knowing He was sent to die for our transgressions.
He would bear our stripes. He would atone. He would die.
As with all things in the perfect life He lived,
For God sent Him into the world in love, in perfect love
To die for our sins, the perfect Pascal Lamb, the Savior of the world, the Prince of Peace, the Son of God
Once more submitting to the Father’s direction: “Not my will but Yours be done.”
He prayed it once. He found the disciples sleeping, rejecting His request to watch with Him for an hour.
Betrayal, disappointment, signs of things to come that fateful night, and that awful Good Friday He faced.
Once more, he left them to pray, knowing full well the time had come.
With swords and torches and clubs they came
Out of the darkness, utter darkness, to arrest Him.
Jesus’ only protest, “Do you come with weapons to take me?
You could have come to the synagogue where I taught,”
You could have arrested me there!” but no the scriptures would be fulfilled.
The next indignity, the kiss of Judas, one of His own, who was filled with Satan that night,
Turned a kiss into the kiss of death.
He said once the shepherd was away, the sheep would scatter.
They did. His disciples abandoned Him that moment.
Oh, one of them protested, just a bit, by attacking with a sword, but Jesus’ rebuke was embarrassing.
He was a man of peace.
Oh, the indignities that followed, as the Lamb was led, silently, to His death.
The mocking, the striking, the dressing in king’s robes, the crown of thorns.
The false claims, the trade for a murderer and insurrectionist,
The Pilate, then Herod, the washing of hands
The beating and flogging and stripes on His back, the utter rejection of fickle crowds’ voices,
While hosannas echoed on Jerusalem’s streets,
Halting steps toward Golgotha, cross heavy on His back,
He stumbled, humanity’s limits
Both in body and soul.
Simon of Cyrene brought to service; he carried the cross,
While shouts, “Crucify, Crycify!” rang from the crowd.
They trudged heavy steps to Golgatha’s hill, condemned, though innocent, to die for mankind,
The Savior submitted, though throngs of angels could come to change the whole picture
and amaze one and all.
But God’s plan was perfect, proclaimed through the Scriptures,
that only Jesus’ sacrifice would suffice to save all mankind.
“Father, forgive them; they know not what they do,” in humble submission, He knew what to do.
Nailed to the cross, the weight of man’s sin, He suffered the mocking, the pain and the shame
So we’d find salvation in the shedding of blood.
We’d see with compassion the blessing of one by His side.
“In paradise today, yes, you will come.”
He cared for His mother, bequeathed her to John, beloved disciple, who’d see to her needs.
He heard the mockery, “Save yourself, if you can!, come down off that cross!”
Knowing full well the spectacle that would be.
But no, He’d know the deepest sorrow of all, the Father’s back turned for a moment of truth
The horror of man’s plight, separation from Holy God,
Man’s sinfulness portrayed; the hefty price to be paid.
Taking full charge, he committed His spirit to God’s hand,
Knowing he’d fulfilled prophecy, job completed, atonement made.
God had a better plan, resurrection, New Life. Eternal joy.
Jesus knew. Understood. He would live again.
The tomb that First Day was empty, death conquered.
God’s power and glory for sure on display.
Appearing to Mary and the others, come to the tomb.
Empty. “He has risen,” the angel’s message resounds.
“Go tell the others!” Peter, James, John, disciples.
He ate with them, talked with them in resurrected glory.
He walked to Emmaus, calmed all Thomas’s doubts.
He told them the Comforter would come in His place
To guide them, empower them to spread His good word
To the ends of the world; it has come to pass.
He ascended to the Father, sits there as Judge, hears our prayers
With the saints and the elders in the throneroom of God.
We’re in the end times now, awaiting His return,
For sure, for certain, it’s all in His words.
He’s preparing a place for us, of that we’re assured,
We’ll praise Him forever for what He endured
That Good Friday, that day of redemption.
Praise God, He’s alive.
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