I was there
I had to be there
He was my son. My firstborn, my Lord.
I watched them
I saw them hurt him, thrust a crown of thorns upon his head, hoist up a sign mocking him as ‘The king of Jews’ and dividing his cloak up amongst them.
But didn’t they see, that is who he is; the king, Lord, messiah, Son of the living God.
When he was conceived the angel told me, ‘He will be great and will be called the Son of the most high. The lord God will give him the throne of his Father David and he will reign over Jacobs’ descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.’
Never end. Is this really the end?
I wanted to go to him, help him, hold him, care for him just like I did when he was a child. Memories of his life came flooding back.
Like the time he went missing. Scared the life out of me he did! 3days it was. 3 whole days. We’d gone up to Jerusalem and were travelling back home. As Jesus was twelve at the time he was at the age where he could travel with the men, and so I thought he was with Joseph. But, Joseph still saw him as a child and thought that he would be safe travelling with the women and children, so neither of us knew we had left him behind. When we realised we searched and searched, frantically trying to find him. When we finally did, there he was, sat down in the temple, as if nothing was wrong. Learning, listening, questioning he was, talking to the Rabbi. A learned man of God right from the very beginning.
I was there at his first miracle. He turned the water into wine, at a wedding of a friend of ours. I knew he could help. I told them,
‘Do as he says’. Even then, demonstrating kindness, grace and goodness.
Those precious memories stopped me in my tracks.
Then he looked up and saw me, quietly weeping, as my tears mixed with his pain, like an ugly smudged painting. It was as if he knew my thoughts. ‘Woman, here is your son,’ and to His close friend John, he said, ‘Here is your mother’. Even in his hour of greatest pain and suffering, he thought of me. My son.
My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my saviour….
God’s mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation. He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
I always knew he was special. God showed me before he was even conceived . There I was, treasuring these things in my heart. I was there at the very beginning of his life, as he took his first breathe, a tiny baby placed in a feeding trough fit only for animals. Now here I am at the end. Willing him to take his last, to be free from all of that suffering and pain. Watching him Hanging there on a cruel cross, nails piercing his hands and feet.
But he is the messiah. The Son of God.
His Father God, where are you now? Why have you abandoned him?
And then he let out his last breath. The sky turned black, like nature was mourning alongside us. As if God himself had removed all of the colour from this place. And it was over.
Our job here on earth was complete.
I stood still, taking it all in, loving him, listening to the cries of the crowd, watching the soldiers pierce his side just to make sure he was definitely gone.
But….
It didn’t feel like the end.
My spirit filled with hope like a peace descended on me at that moment. It wasn’t just relief that he was free from pain, it was more than that. The only way I can describe it, is it’s like God wasn’t finished just yet.
