Saturday Thoughts

It's Holy Week, and here in blog-land I want to celebrate that! Check out the posts on Palm Sunday, righteous anger, and service if you missed them.

In the tale of Christ's death, I am the antagonist.

I am Peter. In the moments when I should stand up for my faith and defend all that Christ is, I stay silent. I claim that I will never fall away, but when push comes to shove, the rooster crows and I've disowned Him three times.

I am Judas. I spend personal time with Jesus and think I know Him really well, yet there are still times when our relationship is strained. It's then that I turn him over to be arrested for a measly thirty silver pieces. Hey, it seemed right at the time.

I am Pilate. I give in to peer-pressure and conform to the crowd, both denying Jesus and saying that it's not my fault.

I am the governor's soldiers. I mock Jesus--maybe not out loud, but sometime in action. I spit on Him. I strike Him. I divide up His clothes and cast them out by lots.

I am the nails in His hands. It was my sin up there on the cross. He was there because of all the times that I betray God, that I push Him away. It was because of me. And because of you.

It's sobering.

I wonder what this Saturday would have been like for Christ's disciples. He had said that he would raise again, but I have to wonder if there was doubt in their heart on this day. I have to wonder how crushing their grief would have been. I wonder.

There's part of me, too, that cannot even fathom just how much God loves me. Crucifixion is a horrifying, terribly painful way to die--it's where our word excruciating comes from. Despite this, though, He willingly sent His Son for me. I don't deserve it. Like I said earlier, I am the antagonist here. I'm the bad guy. It is all my fault. But he did it anyways, and I'm thankful for it.

And I'm oh, so thankful that the story doesn't end there.


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