Bloody Mud



© Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

Have you ever had wondering days
When you sit and reflect upon things?
Certain thoughts will linger and laze,
Before you know it… take wings.

I wondered about Mary today,
The mother of 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 … nailed him fast.
Judas betrayed this holy One
For silver that would never last.

She tarried on that blood-soaked hill,
Weeping… needing to hold her boy.
Discerned his body they did kill
But never would his spirit destroy.

His ravaged flesh taken from the tree;
Mary’s tears flowed with his blood.
She cradled him so lovingly
As the soil churned into red mud.

His corpse was taken to a tomb quite near,
Wrapped up in spices and herbs.
Mary trudged home with Sabbath tears,
A heavy heart greatly disturbed.

Do you think underneath all that dirt,
This hill still preserves hallowed mud…
The evidence of Mary’s hurt—-
Her tears mingled with Jesus’ blood?

OH GOD!

© Jeanne E Webster- All Rights Reserved

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 back 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 before the barrel ran dry. “…mine hour is not yet come.” JOHN 2:4

Scene 3

Many years later, a Passover meal has been prepared in an upper room for Jesus and his disciples. 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 awaiting him in the garden of Gethsemane and later at 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.

Scene 4

A few hours later Jesus was standing 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!”

Scene 5

Breathless and exhausted, Mary scrambles up the hill to the cross that holds her son with a mere three 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

Scene 6

The trial was over, the long agonizing 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 her, He said “Woman, behold your Son!” 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.

“It is finished.” Bowing his head he gave up the ghost. John 19:30
(jew)

A Wondering Day

 

 

© Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

Have you ever had “wondering” days
When you sit and reflect upon things?
Certain thoughts will linger and laze,
. . . before you know it, take wings.
.
I’m wondering about Mary today,
The mother of Jesus, our Lord.
Lingering resolve to woefully stay,
This event of such tragic accord.
.
Evil prevailed on that cross up high. . .
They mangled him then nailed him fast.
Judas betrayed this holy One. Why?
For silver that would never last.
.
Mary tarried on that blood-soaked hill,
Weeping… needing to hold her boy.
Knowing that his body they did kill
But never could his spirit destroy.
.
His ravaged flesh was taken off the tree;
Mary’s tears flowed with his blood.
She cradled him ever so lovingly
As the soil churned into red mud.
.
His corpse was taken to a tomb quite near,
Wrapped up in spices and herbs.
Mary trudged home with Sabbath tears,
Her heavy heart greatly disturbed.
.
Do you think underneath all that dirt,
This hill still preserves hallowed mud…
Evidence of Mary’s excruciating hurt-
Her tears mingled with Jesus’ blood?

Hope of Heaven

cross2

Hope of Heaven

© Jeanne E Webster.  All rights reserved

 

Silent night . . . holy night . . .

The kingly head that was crowned with thorns

Once lay in a manger, sleeping,

Tenderly caressed by His mother, Mary.

 

O Come Emmanuel . . .

The hands that were cruelly nailed to the cross

Once healed thousands by His gentle touch,

Mercifully bestowed through His Father.

 

Amazing grace . . . how sweet the sound . . .

Those feet so harshly hammered to the wood

Once walked the sands of time for 33 years,

Presenting the hope of heaven

…to all mankind.

 

Just as I am . . . without one plea . . .

Oh Lamb of God, I come

I come!

white rose 

 

Pure Love

Baby

 

“What is this thing called LOVE?” asked Cole Porter in a song.   My thoughts rushed this Advent day to Christ’s birth in Bethlehem:

.

♫ ♫ ♫

“A wee baby boy bundled in a blanket

Nursing at Mary’s breast

Eyes not seeing

But heart a ’beating . . .

Oh, how the world’s being blest!

.

“Kings and wise men traveled to the east

Following after a star

Gold and incense

Frankincense and myrrh . . .

All for royalty these are!

 .

.

.

“Kneeling and praying in Gethsemane

‘Father, Thy will be done.’

Spit upon and bloodied

Lashed and condemned . . .

Then a cross embraced the Son!”

.

What is this thing called LOVE?!

“For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have eternal life.”  John 3:16

Are You Ready? Christmas Awaits!

wintera.jpg

 

© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved.

`

Are you ready for Christmas?  I guess that depends on what I mean by “Christmas.”

Is your shopping done?  Have you gotten all the gifts on your list?  If not, you’re not ready for Christmas.  It takes quite an organized person to bring this about.  You still have time to shop, select necessary items, make catalog purchases, order gifts online, and perhaps have time remaining to gift wrap, package, ship out, then take a deep breath of relief.  You’ve got it all in hand.  You’ve done your duty–to family and friends.

On the other handare you ready for Christmas?  Are you ready to celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ? 

No shopping list needed, no gifts to buy, no weeks of shopping ahead, no hurrying and scurrying here and there in a frantic rush amid the masses.  All you need is an open heart and a listening ear . . .Jesus is calling.

Do you hear the music?

Listen.  May your heart and spirit reverberate . . .

+

O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie;

Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.

Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light;

The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

+

For Christ is born of Mary and gathered all above,

While mortals sleep, the angels keep their watch of wondering love.

O morning stars together proclaim the Holy birth;

And praises sing to God the King, and peace to men on earth.

+

How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given!

So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heaven.

No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin,

Where meek souls will receive Him, still the dear Christ enters in.

+

O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray;

Cast out our sin and enter in, be born in us today.

We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;

O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel.  Amen

.

 

Father, we celebrate the birth of your Son, Jesus Christ…

Your Heavenly gift to us so long ago on that dark night in Bethlehem town.  No one heard His coming as Mary gave birth in a lowly manger.   The angels heralded the news to meek souls below, as they told us that a Savior was born, which was Christ our Lord.  As we sing praises and glory to you this Christmas day, we give thanks for this precious Child, our King.  Come into our hearts, abide with us, O Lord, be born in us today!  In His dear name we pray.  Amen.

Are you truly ready for Christmas?  May we join together and say a heartfelt amen to that.

AMEN! 

`

 

 

This is My Blood

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© 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?