Sleep had eluded her that night and she was weary and worn as she stood there at Golgotha's Hill hoping to get a glimpse of him, her first born son. Her eyes were swollen and heavy from all the tears she had shed and the lack of rest, yet she strained all the harder to see him.
A multitude of people was gathered there but she hardly noticed. They were quiet with anticipation for what was about to take place. Some had looked forward to this day for three years. Now the time was here.
Suddenly the crowd began to stir and excitement filled the air. There on the dusty trail a procession was taking place. The people began to cry out, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" As the procession grew nearer, Mary saw the Roman soldiers, someone carrying a heavy wooden cross, and then, though her eyes could scarcely believe what they saw, she saw him, her firstborn, her baby, her son. Mary's hands flew to her mouth stifling the screams at what her eyes beheld. John, standing nearby took hold of her, steadying her trembling frame. In spite of the disfigurement of his face, the disshevled look, the blood that trickled down his brow, Mary knew this was her son and pain tore at her heart like none she had ever known before.
As the procession made it's way to the top of the hill, the crowd cried out all the more, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" Some in the crowd hurled insults at him while others spat on him and wagged their heads as they mocked him. How was it possible, she thought to herself, that one whose heart was filled with only love and compassion for the people be so despised.
She watched as the one carrying the cross lowered it to the ground. But her eyes went quickly back to her son as she took in the wounds on his body, the blood trickling down from his brow caused by the thorns of the crown that dug into his flesh. She flinched as she took in the gashes on his back, the bruises and the dried blood. "Thank God for the man who carried the cross," she whispered to herself.
As she continued her watch, her eyes caught sight of the soldiers as they took hold of her son and laid him down on the cross. She could not make herself believe what was about to happen next, but reality set in when the echoes of the hammers hitting the nails that were being driven into the hands and feet leaving a heart wrenching sound in her ears. Never would she be able to forget that sound.
When the hammers had at last ceased their pounding, the soldiers raised the cross on which her son was nailed and placed it between two other crosses on which were two thieves. There they would hang until death claimed them.
Mary stood and watched as the soldiers gambled for his clothes and faintly heard the murmurings of the crowd. Her main concern was for the one on the center cross, her boy, Jesus. As she stood gazing on his face, her mind wandered back in time, back to that first encounter with the angel of the Lord. It was then she was told of the coming birth of Jesus, how he would be conceived by the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit. And she had been chosen by God, himself to bring this baby into the world. She remembered the months that followed as the baby grew within her womb, making himself known with every little movement or kick. Her love for him had grown more with every passing day until she thought she couldn't possible love him any more than she already did.
She remembered the trip to Bethlehem with Joseph to pay taxes. How tired and weary they were when they reached their destination. Not only were they tired, but Mary began to experience the pains of labor. As they searched for a place to spend the night they found everything was filled up. One innkeeper, noticing their plight offered to let them use his stable for the night and gave them clean hay for a bed and food for their animal. And that night, just when she thought she couldn't love him anymore than she already did, there he was, her newborn son, and the love she felt for this little baby was unlike any she had ever known before.
As Mary continued to look on the face of her son, a face filled with such anguish and pain, she wondered how the years had gone by so quickly. Those wonderful years as Jesus grew from an infant to a young boy following behind Joseph in his carpentry shop. Mary remembered the toothless grin on his face the day he came home from fishing with a tiny fish on his line. And, oh, how sweet it felt when he wrapped those little arms around her kneck to comfort her when she was down and out. No amount of money, no worldly possessions, not even death could take those precious memories from her. But now she was so frightened for him. Not since she and Joseph thought they had lost him when returning from the Passover in Jurusalem had she been this afraid. They had found him safe, then, discussing scriptures with the priests and they didn't know whether to be angry with him or just be thankful they had found him. He was a smart one and Mary was so proud of him. Nevertheless, he deserved a good scolding for scaring them so and Mary had done just that even though her heart had not really been into it. Though she hadn't really understood what his reply meant, "Don't you know I must be about my Father's business?" Was this part of that business, Mary wondered.
Then all too soon those precious childhood years had passed with it's scrapes, cuts, bruises,tears and dirty little face that was so enduring to Mary's heart. And Jesus stood there, a young man ready and determined to be about his Father's business. He had embarked on a journey that took him away from home and family. When he had made his intentions known to Mary she was sad that he would be leaving but so proud of the fact that he had grown into such a fine young man. And so she had hugged him and kissed him goodbye, wishing him God speed. But deep within her beings there was this churning, uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched him walk away.
As the days and months went by Mary kept her ears open for any little bit of news of her son and cherished every bit that came her way. However, along with the good news sometimes the news would be bad. There was news of how he had chosen twelve men to travel and work with him, news of how multitudes were following him and many were being restored to good health. But there was also new of how others despised him and his teachings and wanted to put a stop to it. Though Mary was concerned for the safety of her son, she knew in her heart that he was in the hands of his heavenly Father and prayed that God's will be done.
Never in her wildest dreams did she believe it would turn out like this. Her son, who had never done any harm to anyone, whose heart was filled with love and compassion for all people, now beaten, bruised, marred beyond recognition, and nailed to a cross though he had lived a sinless life. His time had been spent teaching the scriptures, healing the sick, giving sight back to the blind, hearing back to the deaf, healing the lame and even raised the dead. Now here he was, put to shame by those who had chosen to believe that he was not the Son of God. He was betrayed by one disciple, denied by another and the others had scattered at the time of his arrest. Except for John who was standing by her side. She wondered if they were the only ones who really loved Jesus enough to stand by him. Had all that he had done been in vain?
Her gaze drifted from the anguished face of her son and caught hold of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. "God," she prayed, "how much longer must he suffer this humilliation and pain? If this has to be, please end his suffering soon."
At some point in time, she wasn't sure just when, she recalled him saying, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." She also remembered him looking at John and saying, "John, behold your Mother." Then he had also said to her, "Mother, behold your son." Such love! Even while in such anguish and pain and realizing the end was near, still he thought of making provision for those he would leave behind. But when he cried out from the cross, "My God! My God! Why hast thou forsaken me?", it was as though a spear had been plunged through her own heart. Then she remembered the words spoken to her by Simeon when she and Joseph had taken baby Jesus to be circumsised. "Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul, also." Could this be what Simeon was talking about?
"Soon, God, soon," she prayed. "Let this torture be over soon and let my son be at rest."
After what seemed an eternity, a faint cross was heard from the cross, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit. It is finished." Then he hung his head and died. And Mary believed in her heart that God had heard and answered her prayer. No more would they need to speak ill of his name. No more would evil men plot his death.No more beatings or crowns of thorns tearing at his flesh. No more pain, no more suffering. It is finished.
When word came that he had died, Mary looked on in total disbelief as one of the soldiers raised his spear and plunged it into Jesus' side and water and blood flowed down his body and onto the cross and the ground below him. How could anyone be so calloused and col hearted, she wondered to herself.
Mary listens as Joseph of Arimathea asks permission to take Jesus' body down from the cross. She notices how gently he handles the lifeless body. Finally she is able to go to her darling boy and wipe away the blood, sweat, and tears from his brow and face. If only she had something with which she could comb his hair that was matted with sweat and dried blood. She takes his head in her arms and rocks him back and forth just as she had done when he was a child and came to her , tears streaming over a scrape or bruise.
As Joseph took the linen cloth from Nicodemus to wrap the body, Mary whispered, "Oh please let them start at his feet so that I might look upon his face just a little longer." She wanted to remember every little detail that was so dear to her heart.
As Mary walked away from the tomb, her heart was heavy, her body bent with grief. Her son was dead and she couldn't make sense of it all. "It's over," she says to herself, "he's gone, my boy is dead and I don't understand why. The angel said he would be the King of kings and the Savior of our people, but how can that be now? He's gone and what hope is there now? How can I ever fill this hole that has been left in my heart? Poor Joseph. How he loved that boy. He was so proud of every little accomplishment he made as he worked along side him in his carpentry shop. Thank God he didn't have to be a witness to this awful thing they did to our boy, Jesus."
Mary and the others still had not fully understood what Jesus had tried to teach them about his death but how he would arise out of death's sleep on the third day. Therefore their hearts were filled with hopelessness and despair. If only they had known this was not the end but just the beginning, the beginning of a life of hope and promise of a life in a world with no end. If only they had known the rest of the story.
How about you? Do you know the rest of the story? Do you know that Jesus is alive today and he is seated at the Father's right hand where he is ever interceding to the Father on our behalf. Do you know that one day we who believe in his Son Jesus Christ and his finished work on the cross and live according to his commands will rise to meet him in the air and live with him in glory throughout all eternity?
Written by: Bonnie Wishum 4-3-2007
(childlike faith)
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