This is My Blood

cross2

© 2009 Jeanne E Webster. All Rights Reserved and Observed.

 

 

Have you ever had “wondering” days

When you sit and reflect upon things?

Certain thoughts will linger and laze,

And before you know it, take wings.

.

I wondered about Mary today,

The mother of Christ Jesus, our Lord.

She tarried with intent to stay,

(Heart and soul of woeful accord),

.

That day when they took Jesus, her son.

They mangled him then nailed him fast.

Judas betrayed this holy One

For silver that would never last.

.

She tarried there on that blood-soaked hill,

Weeping… wanting so to hold her boy.

She knew his body they did kill

But never his spirit destroy.

.

His ravaged flesh taken from the tree;

Mary’s tears flowing with his blood.

She cradled him so lovingly

As the soil churned into red mud.

.

His corpse, taken to a tomb quite near,

Was wrapped up in spices and herbs.

Mary trudged home with Sabbath tears,

Her heavy heart greatly disturbed.

.

Do you think underneath all that dirt,

Does that hill still preserve hallowed mud…

The evidence of Mary’s hurt—-

Her tears mingled with Jesus’ blood?

Now is the Hour

cropped-crucifix.jpg

 

© Jeanne E Webster. All Rights Reserved and Observed.

Scene 1…

Mary and Joseph lost track of their son, Jesus, a mere 12 year-old, on the way home from their temple visit in Jerusalem. Frantically searching for three days, they found him in the temple in deep discourse with the rabbis. Quite distraught, they inquired why he had gone off on his own. “…I must be about my Father’s business.” LUKE 2:49

Scene 2…

While attending a wedding in Cana of Galilee, Jesus’ mother asked him to provide the guests with more wine, as the wine barrel had run dry. “…mine hour is not yet come.” JOHN 2:4

Scene 3…

Many years later, a Passover meal has been shared in an upper room by Jesus and his disciples. Women possibly were present to facilitate the meal, including Jesus’ mother. She had perhaps bid him “Shalom, my son” as he left the upper room, heading towards his destiny that awaited him that dark night in the garden of Gethsemane and later Golgotha. Did she remember his words as a child? “…I must be about my Father’s business.” Did she know to some extent what might lie ahead for her son?  “…MINE HOUR IS NOT YET COME.” Is this his hour? Mary’s heart and spirit must have shuddered as she trudged home that evening.

A few hours into the night,  Jesus stood before the high priest, arrested after being betrayed by Judas. His hour had come. Luke 22:15-22, John 18:1-14

Agonizing hours later, amongst the crowds, Mary catches a glimpse of a man struggling to carry a wooden beam that is strapped to his shoulders. This is surely a criminal off to his death on the hill called Golgotha. Surely. No…wait! THAT IS MY SON! He is drenched with blood and sweat, glistening in the hot sun as it streaks down his brow, the remainder of his body one dark red mass. She frantically pushes and shoves those that separate them, but he is still far off. The din from the masses is deafening.

“Crucify him! Crucify him!” “We want Barabbas!”

Breathless and exhausted, Mary scrambles up the hill to the cross that holds her son with a mere 3 nails. Grabbing the cross to catch her balance, she looks up, trying to make eye contact with her son, one last time. HIS HOUR HAS COME! The brutal leather-thronged whip has done its god-forsaken work on his head, shoulders and back. A torn mass of bleeding arteries and shredded muscles hang limply from that rugged cross. “Now there stood by the cross of Jesus, his mother…” JOHN 19:25

The trial was over, the long excruciating walk to Golgotha concluded, the torture of an innocent man, the Son of God, was almost finished. The King of the Jews had been dethroned. Naked, stripped of all his glory and lifted up for all to see, Jesus looked down, searching. Through blood streaked eyes and excruciating pain, he saw his mother standing by. “…Jesus therefore saw his mother…” JOHN 19:26

For a few moments close your eyes and envision this event: a dying son gasping for a glimpse of his mother…a mother in tears and overwhelming heartbreak, peering through the snarled, bloodied hair of her son, trying desperately to make eye contact. And then….

Sweet Veronica

calvary

 

© Jeanne E. Webster.  All rights reserved and observed.

“Lord, how trivial seems my Calvary when I consider Thine,
For only Simon helped Thee lift Thy cross, but many carry mine!
I am not scorned, scourged, nor ridiculed and all along the way
Are many sweet unnamed Veronicas to wipe the tears away.
There’s no cruel nail wounds in my hands, nor thorns upon my brow,
And ministering angels walk with me to smooth the way. But Thou!
How dare I think it…call it…Calvary…this sheltered life of mine—
O broken, beaten, bleeding Lord, my God, when I consider Thine.”

~by Vera Marie Tracy

.

Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord…the author of this poem so beautifully expresses, “How trivial seems my Calvary!”

You see, Christ’s Calvary was complete obedience to the will of Almighty God. He carried His cross (God’s will for His life) from His first cry as a babe in Bethlehem through to His final death cry atop Golgotha:  “It is finished!”

He completed God’s will by dying on a hill called Calvary to redeem us, to pay the price of our sins. He bought us not with silver coins or paper script but with every single drop of His precious blood.

We were enslaved, without a home, wandering around this earth deep in the vilest of sins. Why did He purchase our pardon? Why does He prepare a place for us in heaven?

With tears welling in my eyes as I type, I must write…because He loves us so much!

May we, in turn, carry our cross (God’s will for our lives) until God calls us home.

Yes, Vera, “How trivial seems my Calvary when I consider Thine, Oh Lord.”

Father, teach us how to truly die to self, to seek Thy will only, so our lives will reflect Thy great redeeming love. Then show us how to live, truly live…for You. Amen!!!

Just a Hill

John 15:12-13 “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.   Greater love has no man than this . . . that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

 

chalise

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© Jeanne E Webster.  All rights reserved

 `

“Lord, give me eyes that I may see, lest I as people will,

Should pass someone’s Calvary and think it just a hill.”

~unknown

 `

“He what?  He committed suicide?  Oh NO!  Why didn’t he say something?  I would have been there for him.”   

This was a true story played out last week in the life and death of a famous retired baseball player, supposedly happy with his job as announcer for a major league baseball team.  Interviews with scores of friends and admirers all related that they knew nothing of his problems.  Reality showed they had been blind to his financial troubles.

It wasn’t a hill he faced; it was his cavalry.  His body was found in his back yard; he had shot himself in the head…and died.  Oh God…!

`

Oh Lord, we are so busy these days, running here and there, feathering our nests, getting a leg up, or just plain living for the gusto of life.  We are blind to the red flags popping up around our friends: the panicky stares, the desperate inflections in their voices, the surety in their steps now wavering down the path.  We gave them fly-away thoughts.  That’s all.

If only, Lord…if only we would linger long enough in the lives of others, so they would feel comfortable sharing their troubles.  Give us eyes to see their needs, ears to hear their cries of desperation, and mouths to speak words of relief and peace.    In today’s fast paced society, Father, the world’s all like one big blur…zoom, zoom, zoom.  Use us for your purposes, Lord.  Open our eyes so we may distinguish between a hill and a calvary.    A friend’s life may depend on it.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

 

 

His Father’s Business

©  Jeanne E Webster

Scene 1

LUKE 2:49  Mary and Joseph lost track of their son, Jesus, a mere 12 year-old, on the way home from their temple visit in Jerusalem.  Frantically searching for three days, they found him in the temple in deep discourse with the rabbis.  Quite distraught, they inquired why he had gone off on his own.

“…I must be about my Father’s business.”

+

Scene 2

JOHN 2:4  While attending a wedding in Cana of Galilee, Jesus’ mother asked him to provide the guests with more wine, as the wine barrel had run dry.

“…mine hour is not yet come.” 

+

Scene 3

Luke 22:15-22, John 18:1-14   Many years later Jesus and his disciples shared a Passover meal in an upper room.  Women possibly were present to facilitate the meal, including his mother.   She had perhaps bid him “Shalom, my son” as he left the upper room, heading towards his destiny that awaited him that night in the garden of Gethsemane and later Golgotha.

Did she remember his words as a child?  “…I must be about my Father’s business.”  Did she know to some extent what might lie ahead for her son?

“…MINE HOUR IS NOT YET COME.” Is this his hour?  Mary’s heart and spirit must have shuddered as she trudged home that evening.  A few hours later Jesus was standing before the high priest, arrested and betrayed by Judas. His hour had come.

Agonizing hours later amongst the crowds, Mary caught a glimpse of a man struggling to carry a wooden beam strapped to his shoulders.  This was surely a criminal off to his death on the hill called Golgotha.  Surely.  No…wait!  THAT IS MY SON! 

He was drenched with blood and sweat, glistening in the hot sun as it streaked down his brow, the remainder of his body one dark red mass.  She frantically pushed and shoved her way through the throng, but he was still far off. The din from the masses was deafening.

“Crucify him!  Crucify him!”  “We want Barabbas!”

Breathless and exhausted, Mary scrambled up the hill to the wooden beam that held her son with a mere 3 nails.  Grappling with the splintery cross to catch her balance, she looked up, trying to make eye contact with him, one last time.  HIS HOUR HAS COME!  The brutal leather-thronged whip had done its god-forsaken work on his head, shoulders and back.  A torn mass of bleeding arteries and shredded muscles hung limply from that rugged cross. “Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother…”  JOHN 19:25

The trial was over, the long excruciating walk to Golgotha concluded, the torture of an innocent man, the Son of God, was almost finished.  The King of the Jews had been dethroned.   Naked, stripped of all his glory and lifted up for all to see, Jesus looked down, searching. Through blood streaked eyes and excruciating pain, he saw his mother standing by. 

“When Jesus therefore saw his mother…”  JOHN 19:26

     


For a few moments close your eyes and envision this event:   a dying son gasping for a glimpse of his mother…a mother in tears and overwhelming heartbreak, peering through the snarled, bloodied hair of her son, trying desperately to make eye contact.  And then….