The final words of Jesus were not His last. They were a new beginning.
I hope to reflect on Holy Week differently than the fifty-one weeks cluttered with rush and stuff. I hope to keep it holy. Set apart.
Would I be part of the palm praising in-crowd along the Hosanna path . . . or part of the other in-crowd who denied they knew Him?
And how many were part of both crowds? Peter was.
And then there were the innocent bystanders who weren’t innocent. No choice is a choice.
Today and then.
In the human bleeding part of Jesus, what was He feeling . . . not in His broken flesh, but within His broken heart? Divinity nailed to a cross seems to overshadow humanity. Divinity is larger than nails. Man is not.
I think of the thirty-three year old Jesus who came to earth as the infant God-man. The final moments of this young life who lives forever.
The crowds could witness bleeding flesh but what of the bleeding heart overtaken with grief.
His faithful followers deserted Him. Crowds devoured Him with cruel crucify chants. Dehydrated, anemic, and whipped to holy bone. And then, looking into a mother’s eyes who watched her son die on a cross.
The last words from the cross aren’t many. Seven times He spoke, mostly with His Father, while carrying the crushing weight of the world on one cross.
Father, forgive them. (Luke 23:34)
Today you shall be with me in paradise. (Luke 23:43)
Woman, behold your son. (John 19:26) and to John, Behold your mother. (:27)
My God, why have You forsaken Me? (Matthew 27:46)
I thirst. (John 19:28)
It is finished. (John 19:30)
Father, into Thy hands I commit My spirit. (Luke 23:46)
What did Good Friday words mean to the crowds? Then or today?
And, how did it sound in heaven when Jesus heart faded to the last beat? Like life and resurrection.
For Him and for us.