Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. Friday I’m going to post a Do You See What I See, Easter Edition blog. It will be similar to the DYSWIS Christmas project, but this time I will explore what Good Friday or Saturday or Easter might have been like for one of the people who were a part of it. Your job, should you choose to accept it, is to write a piece from another person’s point of view. What would Good Friday have been like for… Mary? John? Pilate? The repentant thief? When you are done, you can post your writing as a comment along with mine. Hopefully we will all be encouraged first as we dig into the crucifixion and resurrection, and secondly as we share in each other’s stories. I hope you will write. Post any time over the weekend. I’ve got two stirring in my mind already. Which one will I post? I don’t even know yet. I can’t wait to hear what God shows you as He brings that weekend to life in your heart.
Todd
Awesome idea, Todd! I’ll start thinking of a story right now! Happy Easter to you!
Hey Todd,
Awesome idea cant wait to see what you do here. see you Friday!!
ROOSTER
By Jake Aschbacher
He sat in the back of the room away from the others. With his back against the wall he pulled his thighs up close to his chest and rested his forearms on his knees. He hung his head low. Breathing deep breaths he could feel the heat on his face from his shame and guilt and anger and fear.
“I am going to die.” He thought.
“I am going to die all alone with no one near me, just like him.”
He looked up from the corner of the room to see Andrew and James talking about something but he didn’t know what. It was as if he was deaf. Everything was internal. Everything was inside his own mind as if his ears had been shut off and he was left to his own thoughts for comfort.
“I want to die.” He said.
Murmuring so low that no one else could hear him. He hadn’t opened his mouth for a whole day, maybe two. He just sat waiting in the room with the others. But waiting for what?
“With the way that I have acted, I shouldn’t expect much.” His internal monologue was getting louder.
He took off his sandals and rubbed the ache out of his toes. He set the sandals beside him and then rubbed his face and his eyes and stretched his arms and cocked his neck back and closed his eyes.
“The narrow path.” He thought to himself.
“What does that even mean?”
He started softly weeping with his eyes towards the ground and even though the others could hear him no one made any notice of it. They all just went on with what they were doing.
Then he heard from across the room, “Peace be with you.”
“Mary, wake up, WAKE UP! They’ve taken Him, He’s been arrested….”
From somewhere deep between restful sleep and heart wrenching fear these words grip my stomach like a vice. I stayed where I lay, hoping I had been dreaming, but my sisters words came again, “they’ve taken Him!” The words this time accompanied by a startling shove, meant to get me moving.
As I began to rise, a sound rose from within. Anguish and despair, such longing that I could not stop the trembling that had now taken over my entire body.
We rushed to the courtyard, and the crowds already gathered, were in an uproar. Seething with disdain and spewing words of hatred for a man that had done nothing but love and move in justice and mercy. Now this very man, my Jesus, is on trial before Pilate.
Just days ago I had gone to Him, my heart overflowing with a gratitude that could not be expressed in words. He was visiting Simon the leper (He was always with those the world considers less) and I had to go to Him. Had to go to my Jesus. Not knowing what I would say or do, I took the bottle of perfume from my room and ran all the way to Simon’s. Bursting through the door (I’ve always been a little dramatic) I fell at His feet. Pouring over Him the perfume and washing His feet with my hair and tears. No words for this man whose life had given my own life breathing room. Death for life, mercy for judgment and grace for fear.
All of this shouting is disrupting my thoughts. What, did they? No, he couldn’t have. Pilate just traded Barabbus for Jesus. “Crucify Him!” “Crucify Him!” Where are they taking Him, why is this happening? Please someone do something! They are leading Him away, and at that moment, He catches my eye. Just a glimpse, that’s all it has ever taken. With that look, my heart is silenced, and I remember. He had spoken of this, and He is not a man that He would lie. Why am I surprised still by His words after all this time, and how true He remains?
The next hours go by with an unreal sense of time. Slowness that seems to etch every horrific detail with a clarity that makes me plead for a mind without memory. A swiftness that has me begging for one more minute with Him. I do not want to watch, but cannot close my eyes for fear that I will forget His face. My Jesus, being beaten, ridiculed and hung on a cross, yet offering no apologies or reason. He is taking it, taking it all, while I watch with trembling and fear.
The wind has picked up and it’s getting darker. There is a storm coming and death is lingering. As I keep my eyes on Him, I am overwhelmed with awe as He does it again. He saves another, a life given when His own is being taken. This time to a thief, hanging beside Him for crimes committed. Guilty. Yet promised and given life. Forgiven.
He cries out now to His Father, and with the very love of God dripping from His flesh, eternity speaks and “It is Finished.”
The storm raged on as we brought Him down to wrap Him properly and bury Him in the tomb. The tears I wept were bitter and deep. I had known true love and I had to leave Him there, where the dead sleep. Will I ever be able to sleep again? Will my heart find rest and will it ever stop hurting?
Early now, on this Sunday dawn I walk to the tomb with my friend Mary. Oh the things He had done for her too. As we walk, we are swimming in memories, each our own. No words, a silence between friends that speaks loudly. As we came closer, a light was shining like the sun and the earth beneath us shook like thunder. A messenger sitting on the tombstone called to us and told us that Jesus was not here, that He had raised to life like He had promised. Oh the joy, flooding my spirit like a mighty rushing river. My Jesus, He is alive! We are told to go to the disciples and reveal this glorious news. At first my feet wouldn’t move, but then the sight of the grave clothes on the ground, and I couldn’t run fast enough. He is ALIVE! MY JESUS!
On our way we are greeted by a gardener, or is he? No, not a gardener it is Him, my Jesus! Falling at His feet, the only response is worship. What I wouldn’t give for another bottle of perfume. For the rest of my days, I will hold on and pour over Him my worship. The giver of Life now LIVES. My Jesus lives.
Six months ago I met a man that changed my life. He is the Son of God. I know what you are thinking. I thought the same thing, but I saw blind eyes opened and crippled legs dance & leap with joy. When I looked in His eyes, I knew it was true. He really is the Son of God & I will never be the same.
I walked to the marketplace to sell my woven goods but it was almost empty. Then I saw the crowds at Golgotha. Now, I have never really liked crucifixions but in a crowd that size, I can surely sell a few things. I started walking on the long dusty road when I met my friend, Peter. He was obviously upset. “What’s wrong? ” I asked. Between sobs he said, “Just turn around & go home.”He was crying even harder.” And if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.” This was strange indeed but I really needed to make a few sells so I kept walking. As I turned the last stretch of road, I saw four guards in a heated argument, They were fighting over something & decided to settle it by shooting dice. The tallest won the prize. Could it be? He tried on his new treasure. I knew at once it was one of mine. It had taken me several days to get the wool dyed to just the right color and even longer to weave the cloak from head to toe without any seams. Not too long or it would drag the ground. Not too short so it could be used as a blanket on cold nights. It was a labor of love and it had to be perfect. My heart sank to my stomach & I felt sick. It was at that moment I realized they were crucifying Jesus.
The Woman with the Alabaster Jar
As all Jews I went to the temple for the beginning of Passover. “What’s all the commotion?” I wonder as I get near the palace. I hear screaming, everyone is pushing and shoving. “Isn’t this our celebration from slavery? Why are people acting this way?”
As I get closer I see a man all bloody and beaten. The roman soldiers are tying his wrists to a crucifixion stake. “Who is this man?” I wonder and I push though the crowd to see. There before me is a grotesque figure. I scream at the sight. My mind races wondering, “Just who is this terrible person, what must he have done to deserve such a horrid sentence.”
Just then the monster looks up, his eyes catch my own. “IT’S JESUS!!” I scream, I fall to the ground, reeling in pain. “No, No, this can’t be!” Suddenly I’m filled with panic. I have to help him; this is NOT how it’s supposed to end. I stand up and lunge toward the soldiers. They laugh and throw me to the ground.
I lay there, screaming to God, my soul is broken. Suddenly they start off, toward the city gates. I know they are leading my Jesus up to the Place of the Skills~ Golgotha.
It all started playing over in my mind what Jesus said that night as I poured the oil over his head.
Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”
I stood up with a new resolve to see this through. I will find Peter; he will know what to do. I search the crowd, I look everywhere for Peter. Finally I see John walked soulfully with another woman, other followers are walking quietly with them, but no Peter. I slow down to meet up with them and quietly mingle into the group of followers, hoping no one will ask me who I am.
We make the long, painfully journey to the Place of the Skills. I can’t watch as the soldiers laugh and enjoy their torture of my Jesus, I crumble to the ground and cover my face with clothes.
The sky begins to turn dark, but it isn’t evening yet. I hear the furry of our god in the skies. I hear the wailing of others as our Jesus hangs on the tree, dying in front of us and still praising his Father~ God.
Suddenly the ground becomes angry and begins to shake. I looked up to hear Jesus’ final word, “ Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”
My heart was broken, right there on that cross. As I got up to walk off alone a woman came up to me, asked me if I had known Jesus and before I could answer John said, “Yes, Mother. She is the woman who blessed Jesus with the perfumes from the alabaster Jar. She prepared his body for burial.”
The words stung my soul; I didn’t mean to do this. I was only trying to anoint my Lord and Savior. The woman brought me in close and hugged me tight.
“Then you will come with us tonight.”
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I didn’t ask for this! I just wanted to come to town for the Passover; I just happened on to see the crowd wondered what was happening…..I didn’t know him! It’s not fair!! Why should I have been drug into all of this? I was just standing there.
He was supposed to be another Messiah, but we have had so many over the last 10 years or so, it’s hard to keep up with them! I didn’t actually know this one; they say he did more teaching than killing. That set him apart from most of them, right there! I hear he actually healed some man. I’ll bet that was something to see! I wonder how he pulled that trick off! I mean it had to be a trick; if it weren’t why else would they be working so hard to kill him? Not just kill him but putting him on a cross! That is usually reserved for the really big rebels, to make sure everyone saw the example. When I reached down to help him carry what he had, I saw the stripes on his back….they really did a job on him!! I cannot begin to imagine what he did to make them this angry!
What I don’t understand is the Pharisees! If they are supposed to be protecting us from false teachers, such as him, how did he escape them for so long? I do know for certain, he was actually in the Temple teaching, with them right there! Somehow, he was able to, not only teach the people, but walk away like nothing!
I have had to do a lot of think about the Prophets lately. They said so many things about what the real Messiah would be like, what He would be able to do, able to accomplish. According to what our own Rabbis’ are teaching, the Messiah is supposed to take the Roman’s out of commission, this man did more, from what I hear, to take the Pharisees out! I have to admit, I have always thought about doing something like that myself! But , if we do, who will help us get the forgiveness and redemption we need?
Well, they killed him. I helped. Seems strange, though; if he was just a man who pulled a really great trick ( the healing), and managed to stay at least one step ahead of the Temple guards, why is it that when THIS man died, the whole sky darkened? Others have died, 2 today, but the sun stayed right where it was till he passed away!
Then, there’s the Veil! Tore right in two!
I thought I would write down some of the things that have been happening the past two days. The disciples and I have been hiding in this room since our Master and Teacher died on Friday. I don’t understand what happened. We were happy and together just a few days ago, and now I am afraid to go outside. Peter told me Herod’s guards recognized him, and since I was once a tax collector, I am sure to be recognized. I am so scared, and I don’t know where to go. I gave away everything to follow Him, and now He’s gone. I remember the night they took him.
I watched from the background as they beat Jesus. I don’t know how he was able to still stand after that severe a beating, but He did. Then they had Him carry His cross to Golgotha, and as I watched them hammer the nails into His wrists, I felt my heart sink in despair. He told us He was the Messiah. The chosen one. However, if this is true, then how could He die? Why didn’t He just come off that cross and strike them all dead? Maybe it has to do with the stories He told us about loving our enemies. I guess He wouldn’t be very loving if He struck them all dead, but why did He stay there? I will never forget how He asked His Father to forgive them. How could He forgive anyone for doing that it Him? I miss Him so much. I should have accompanied the women when they left to go to the tomb, but I was afraid to go outside.
Well, Mary Magdalene and his mother left to prepare His body for burial, because there was no time when He died. Since we can’t work on the Sabbath, we had to wait for the burial ritual, but I don’t know how they will get in, there is a huge stone in front of His tomb. Oh, no, someone is coming. I think they have found us. Maybe if I hide in the corner and pretend to be asleep they won’t see me…
Later…
It was Mary; she told us His body is gone. She said an angel told her He had risen from the dead. At first, we thought they went to the wrong place, but then Jesus came to us. He just appeared in the middle of this room. I stood up from the corner I was hiding in, and heard Him say “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” Then, He said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.” How can this be? How can He be alive? I saw His body, I know He died, but He is alive again. I must go and tell the others. I must tell everyone, THAT JESUS IS ALIVE, HE HAS RISEN FROM THE DEAD!
A mother’s prayer
As I bow before you on my knees I can’t control the thoughts, the emotions that are welling up, flooding out from my broken soul. How much more must I have to suffer, how much hurt can one bear? How it seems like yesterday when I learned that I was given the enormous responsibility of raising you. That was just the beginning you know, the gossip, the sideways glances when the townspeople found I was pregnant before I was married. ,then the moving…it seemed like it would never end…the disruption in my life. Oh those first years were full of experiences I will never forget ,and wouldn’t trade… even if I could ,and that makes me think. I guess I could have chosen to do things differently I could have said no…No lord what you are asking me to do I am not prepared to do, not able to do… Lord I had not planned for this baby,. I could have chosen to refuse this opportunity to serve , to use whatever gifts you saw in me to bring glory to you…after all.. Jonah refused his assignment (at first ) a did Moses who argued with you about his incompetence…and David ,how could many times he chose to do things differently than you desired…I could have chosen differently but I am so glad I didn’t.I would have missed the first time you wrapped your chubby little arms around me in a hug, your first todling baby steps over the very soil you created .The first time you picked a flower for me. I would have missed your first words, your first day at temple school where you listened to teachers tell you about the world you designed. I would have missed the first project you created with Joseph.
and now as I see you before me, bleeding, aching, suffering for the very people that you have brought healing to , that you have brought life to, that you love, that you still love my heart breaks…as only a mothers can when she sees her child in pain and can do nothing to alleviate. And .can only sit by and watch and pray that it end soon. And so my son .this is what I pray…that your pain and your aching end soon and that you are soon reunited with your father in heaven where there is only love always love and as your servant I pray that the tears you shed for us, your children will be no more as we ,like you will be reunited with our father, and dwell in peace and harmony with all, pain and suffering vanished for eternity and goodbye is no longer in our vocabulary.