Then I followed.....at a distance- Peter

 “Hey Peter!” my brother called across the room. “Tell everyone why we call you the Rock!” “I would think that is obvious,” I replied flexing my arm. “My rock hard biceps of course!” “All this time I thought it was your rock hard head!” Andrew exclaimed to a chorus of uproarious laughter. I chuckled myself. “Laugh now, but which of you had the courage to follow the master out and walk on water?” “And screaming for help before all was said and done!” Another brother laughed and clapped me on the back. “Indeed, but at least I got out of the boat!”

As we reclined at the table, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the master stand. Not liking the idea of Him traveling alone on a night like tonight, I stood to join him. Quickly the laughter had gone silent as Jesus wrapped a common towel around his waist, filled a bowl with water, and knelt down to begin washing feet. I never remember a time prior to this where I had been knocked speechless. The sight was as perplexing as watching a fish dance or the sun bow to the moon. My Master on His knees doing the work of a slave.

I watched him take each foot in his hand. Dusty grime from miles of travel wiped away with the touch of his hand. He then took the towel and dried each foot as if He held a precious treasure. After each disciple, He looked them in the eye and gently nodded his head. Each looked disoriented as I felt with wide eyes and open mouths, but they nodded back.

He came and stood before me. I noticed the weary lines drawn across His face, his sunken cheeks, and his eyes looked tired and dull. “Lord,” I whispered, “Are you going to wash my feet?” His head turned and His eyes softened. “You do not realize what I am doing, but later you will understand.” “No,” I choked out and stammered. “You shall never wash my feet!”  “Unless I wash you, you will have no part with me.” “Then Lord,” I replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!” He always had this way of looking into me. He saw more than I wanted Him too. To most I was strong, confident, and headstrong. Only He knew the truth. That I never felt as if I were enough.

Again a holy hush fell over the table. It was as if heaven itself had paused and waited to see how this drama would proceed. My Lord took a loaf of bread, and held it in His hands. The same hands that minutes before had griped our filthy earth caked feet. How could one single set of Hands hold so much? I have watched as they held children, grieving widows, broken men. Now, He held the bread and said, “Take; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks He gave it to us, and we all drank from it. He said  then, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” Then Jesus said to them, “This very night you will all fall away on account of Me. For it is written:

‘I will strike the shepherd,

and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’

But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.” 

My mind seemed a garbled mess. His blood poured out for all? A new covenant? I didn’t understand. His body would be broken for us? No! We could fight! I would fight with my last breath and consider it a victory if only Jesus lived. I began to shake with fear, but fear quickly altered to anger. My fist pounded on the table and a crack shot through the room. Pain lanced through my hand where a large splinter had broken off into it,  but I paid it no attention. “Even if all fall away on account of You, I never will.”

When He turned to look at me, it was if the whole world fell away. .“Truly I tell you,” Jesus declared, “this very night before the rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.” The words echoed in the room. They bounced off the cup and the uneaten bread. The sunk into my skin and left a smell like death in my nose. It pierced me deeper than the wood that dug into my hands and dripped blood onto my leftover bread. “Even if I have to die with You, I will never deny You.” Even as I said it, I felt a shadow cross over me. Only for a moment, but the lingering doubt crushed the air from my lungs.

 As we walked with Him to Gethsemane, I felt the darkness following. My legs wanted to run and my mind screamed to hide, but the Master walked steady. So I followed. He told us to wait and pray while He went deeper into the garden. I must have fallen asleep though the nightmares that accompanied it gave me no rest. I was at the top of a pit. Confused and panicked as to where Jesus had gone, I swung around and almost lost my balance and fell. As I looked down to steady myself, I saw Him in the bottom of the pit. On His knees, jaw clenched, crying out. I couldn’t make out His words.  But I felt the agony. I leaned forward to scream that I was here. I would come. With a roar of darkness, something cold and hard pushed me. I fell.

I awoke with a start. Jesus standing over me. Could I not stay away and keep watch for even an hour. As He went away again, this time deeper into the garden, it took all the willpower I possessed to not go running after him. Soon I drifted into the dreaded place again. This time I was at the bottom of the pit. Mere feet away from me, Jesus again was on His knees. His hands drug against the ground and the rocks. He barley noticed the blood dripping down his hands as they dug into his hands. Then I saw it. Standing over him was a blackness. Like a cloud only more solid. Like an oil that left a putrid stain of sin. But when I tried to look upon it, everything tilted. I heard screaming and moaning. Suddenly cries of help and terror surrounded me. I tried to jump up and reach for my sword. But my hands were plastered to my side. The darkness was coming for Him. “No!” I screamed. I screamed and screamed until I could taste blood and ash in my mouth. He looked up and when our eyes met, I was jerked awake again.

Groggy from the nightmare and confused by the ache still in my throat, I stood up as Jesus said, “They are here.” I saw darkness and torches. Then I saw Judas and relaxed. Surely there was a reason this crowd had come to get us. Then I looked closer at Judas. Something seemed to almost crawl under his skin. His eyes were black bottomless, but when he blinked they seemed normal again. He walked forward and placed a kiss on the Master's face. Then I knew.

It was him. He would betray Him. The very one who we had all declared the Christ! The Son of the living God! A guard grabbed hold of Jesus’s arm and a red hot fury I have never known burned through me. I grabbed my sword and sliced off his ear. Had I not been so exhausted and overwhelmed, the soldier would now be in two pieces for his comrades to carry home. Jesus looked at me. “No,” was all He said. “This is how it is to be.” I stood frozen to the spot as they drug Him away as I stood in a pile of the soldier’s and my own blood and vomit.  Then I followed at some distance behind to see where they were leading Him. Although in my spirit, it was as if He was still leading them. Though the darkness hadn't discovered this yet. I knew nothing the world has ever seen or would ever see again was coming. 

It's over- Judas

 This was it. The final time I would be made a fool of. Letting a woman, an unclean, lower, inferior woman not just touch you but dump an obscene amount of nard comparable to liquid gold on Jesus and the dust covered ground which he laid.. Makes me sick. I could feel the shaking start from the pit of my stomach. My one arm began to twitch. The pain deep into my head felt like claws dragging against my skull. Whenever I would revisit the idea about what should be done, I never felt alone. At first it was comforting in a weird way. It wasn't a person but more like a pulse. An awareness. Of course, no one else had this gift because that were too busy picking up leftover bread and healing people who don't even deserve a second look. We can help just as many rich ones as the poor ones. And the riches ones we could collect a fee from. Then we would be getting somewhere.

Jesus galloping through city after city while throwing out the Roman occupation. That is what strength looks like. Power and control. I feel the darkness on my left side. I don't dare look. "It's time," the voice said to me. I wish I could place the voice or rather sound. It's almost like no language at all. No one else hears this. Jesus looks at me a few times with a tensed jaw and wet eyes. He knows.

I went to find the chief priests and the officers of the temple guard. Again, darkness clouded my vision. I blinked. Once. Twice. An officer walked up to me with a glint in his eye that promised violence. My mouth curled in a sneer. "You are looking to condemn the teacher Jesus. I am here to discuss terms." The quiet discussions in front of us stopped. "You are one of His?" an old, gnarled hand pointed. "I am no ones. I belong to myself. I decide my own fate." A dark chuckle echoed behind me. "What do you want for your services." "I want only what is owed to me," I whispered into the inky black.

Thirty pieces of silver. The price for a slave. Not nearly enough for all of my wasted time. My wasted life. But I wanted this to be over. I needed it to be over. Maybe once this was finished I could sleep again. Nightmares would no longer flood my mind and seep into my soul.

The last meal we had together I kept my hands low to hide the shaking. I spoke to no one. No one noticed. Almost no one. He noticed. There was something in His eyes when He looked at me. An overwhelming sadness. No judgement or guilt. no questions or accusations. Just sorrow. Then it was over. I knew where they would go. I would end this tonight.

The garden was black. Something was wrong. This darkness was not an earthly darkness. The shadows moved of their own accord. It crept like a creature along the ground and slithered along the path. Something inside me screamed to stop. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. This was my choice. My destiny.

I saw Him. Although He didn't look my way, I knew He was aware the moment we had arrived. Almost like He was waiting. The darkness would not approach Him. It circled and pulsed. As He walked forward, it would skulk backwards. It winded backwards to me. It twisted up my legs and settled into my stomach. Through my chest and pain seared in my head. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I kept walking.

I told myself He deserved this. He misled me and thousands of loyal followers. By not saving us by the sword, He condemns us to slavery and death. No! He deserves death. This nonsense of grace and mercy. Why be part of a mission that was doomed to failure. That's exactly what all of this will come to. That's exactly what His death will be. His ultimate failure.

"Greetings Rabbi," as I sealed our fate with a kiss to the side of His face. I quickly backed up and tried to gasp. There was no air, and I was choking. Darkness was here. Shrieking, clanging of swords, and unearthly roars of victory. Pain seared through my head and dropped me to my knees. Finally, as they led him away I gasped. At first, the world was silent. Then it was empty. A deep pit that not even the darkness would fill. I had betrayed Him. No. This is wrong. I was wrong! He is good! He is our only hope! What if He was who He said He was?

I ran into the temple shadows until I found them. "I have sinned. I have betrayed and innocent man!" Soft steps approached me. At first I thought I saw mercy. Then I looked deep into the eyes that seemed to hold no soul. Like looking into a mirror of emptiness. "That is your problem." I took the coin bag and threw it across the temple floor. The sound shattered the stillness. Clang, clang, clang. I watched the final coin spin impossibly long, as if it hovered while waiting. Then it fell. It was over. Nothing could save me now. I had turned my back on my salvation. I had chosen this path, and I would finish it. I would not ask for lenience. I would not ask for forgiveness. I deserved my fate. I walked out of the temple. The darkness covered me. It was over.

Maybe I was wrong- Sunday- MARY

 I hung back. The crowds were screaming. Feet stomping dirt up into the air.  The people had picked up palm branches and were waving them. "Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the King of Israel!" In one giant wave, the crowd flowed on while I hung back. I bent over and picked up one of the branches they had laid in His path. Crushed and trampled. Broken and Bruised. I drug the palm down the inside of my hand and a thin river of blood mixed with my blood and sweat. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe I had misunderstood?

I hid in shadows and in the crowds. I listened to what the people were saying. One man shouted, "Did you hear? This is Jesus! The man who raised Lazarus from the dead!" A second man exclaimed, "Here He comes into the Holy city! He will do it, this one! He will deliver us from our oppression of the Romans!" The first man wiped at his sweaty brow. The excitement radiating out of his face.  "Indeed! Surely a man who does wonders such as himself will find the role of King quite fitting!" They laughed . Their hope opened up from all to see.

As they walked away, I realized I was holding my breath. I thought back to one of the first times I sat at Jesus's feet. I knew I shouldn't. It wasn't proper. It wasn't where I was suppose to be. But...but there was something about His voice. When He spoke it felt like a breeze on a hot summer day or a rain after the drought. Everything He said I stored away. Had He ever mentioned overthrowing the rulers? Of taking the place of King of our people to lead us out from Rome? No. He had not. I was sure of it.

I pushed closer to the chaos. Another man, this one young and strong, grabbed hold of the older man in front of him. "Did you hear? This Jesus rose a man from the dead!" The older man shook his hand from him and he scoffed. "If I were you I wouldn't put a lot of faith into such fairytales."

But Mary knew. The pain sliced through her chest as she remembered .She remembered.  Nothing in her life had cut her as deep as her brother's death.

As he struggled to breath I begged him, "Just hang on brother! He is coming! He will save you!" I knew it! I believed it more than I had ever believed in anything before. Then Lazarus stopped breathing. It was like the world suddenly went dark. I couldn't see or breathe. I collapsed. I remember waking up in my bed and staring at the ceiling. He hadn't come, and Lazarus was dead.

I was sitting at the table staring at the very place I had sat at the teacher's feet. How could I have been so wrong? All of the sudden people were yelling that Jesus was here. Martha took off in a run. I couldn't bring myself to stand. He was too late.

The master has asked for you Martha had said. At those words, my soul shattered. I stood up and ran .When I saw Him, my knees gave out and I fell at His feet. The place where at one time I had found hope and peace. "Master, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died!" I felt something on my head. I reached up, and it felt wet. I looked into the face of Jesus as tears rolled down His face. He did love my brother! Why had He not come?

After that it was almost as if we were walking in a dream. We went to the tomb. Jesus told us to move the stone while ignoring the scoffing followers. And when Jesus called "Lazarus come out!" A rumbling began from the depth of the earth. A vibration was semt up into my body where my teeth because to chatter. Then all was quiet. Silent Then my brother walked out! Never would I doubt His faithfulness, compassion, and love.

Someone pushed into me. I fell into the dust. The cloud chocked me, and there were feet all around. Afraid I might be trampled, I quickly rose to catch a last glimpse of Jesus before the crowd swallowed him.

The last time I had been with Jesus, I knew something was coming for Him. I didn't know how to put what I felt into words. An end of sorts was coming. I had to do something before it came to tell Him how much I loved Him! How could I show him before it was too late. The urgency pounded in my head as my hands shook. Then I remembered the nard I had been saving. For what I never knew, but I  had a feeing it would change everything. Tripping over my own feet I ran to grab it, as I walked towards Him, I admit I began to doubt. Something dark whispered in my ear. Softly at first. "You will make a fool of yourself! They will throw you out of His presence! Why waste such a gift?" But I pushed through. I kept walking. I broken open the jar and pour out my heart to Him. Where words seemed finite and not enough, I hoped that this offering might speak what my heart was crying.

Then the darkness took on a voice I knew well. Judas. "What a waste!" I looked over at him and blinked. For a moment...I could have sworn I saw.... Darkness and shadows. Wrapping around his body. When he spoke again, my blood ran cold. "Why not sell this and give the profit to the poor?"

Then Jesus spoke. The minute He spoke the darkness fled. I swear I thought I heard...maybe...a shriek? "Let her alone. She is anticipating and honoring the day of my burial. You will always have the poor with you. You don't always have me."

Then I knew. The words..... burial....you won't always have me. I knew.

As the crowd thinned as they followed the man they thought would soon be king, I caught a smell that made my heart leap and then drop at the same time. The perfume. The scent still lingered when I poured out my offering. When I wiped his feet with my hair. Anointing Him for burial.  He was finishing what He had started. An end not a beginning. I knelt down in the dirt and dust and watched as my tears gathered in a puddle beneath.

A king? A conqueror of Rome. How could I have been so wrong? Perhaps I was? He would be King! Hope bloomed in my chest. But something wasn't right although the word King rang true. I looked to the sky. Passover would begin soon. There was much to do. This was the time to thank God above for delivering us from the Egyptians. By the blood of the lamb, we were saved as the angel of death would not touch us if the blood covered us. A flash of red flew through my mind. The smell of blood. Something was coming. Something that would change the world forever. I thought I knew what was happening. Now I am not so sure. But one thing I do know. This man holds the keys to death. I had seen the darkness flee from his presence. I had seen it power gone with the opening of his mouth. I didn't know what was happening, but I did know whatever it was and for whatever reason, Jesus was allowing it. He walked straight , calm, because He knew.

Go are going to make it!!!

 

2 years ago and about 140 pounds. That girl in the white....was dying. Literally. Heart health garbage with a double does of genetics and bad life choices. One day I decided maybe I wanted to live. In more ways than one. Found a dr and got surgery.  That was only the beginning. The easy part actually.  I had to relearn who I was. I had to believe I was worth it. I had to go back to the beginning and meet with my Jesus again. He had to convince me that I was worth loving and fighting for. When I tell you that Jesus is my everything I don't think people understand how literally I mean that. When I told Him it was easier to just let go, that I wasn't worth it. I failed, I gave up, there were others who were worth the time. And as I laid on the floor crying and begging to just let me go. I can't explain it in words but I felt Him lay beside me and hold me and until the sobbing slowed down.  He reminded me of a lot of things. Plans and purposes I had given up on because I wasn't worthy. He told me that it was never about me but HIM. REALITY CHECK. and He promised he would be with me always until the very end of the age. I got up and told Him if He was still willing I would fight. For Him I would fight through it all. What you see is an outward change from an inward Mighty God. He never let go. Stayed right by my side and daily in some big and small way told me that I was worth it and my destiny was going to be all for His Glory. So I fought. Physical illness, mental illness, people who literally told me I wasn't good enough. Every time things things got shaky He reminded me that He wasn't. He had me and that's all that mattered. We fought for my health back, my faith back, we fought for ME. And by golly we are making it. Jesus is my best friend, my guide my SAVIOR.  So I May be a little MUCH.  I will never apologize for that. Because when you have a death to life story to tell because of only Jesus- you GUNNA BE LOUD.  Trust me when I say I get it. I walked it and not only does He save us from sin and death BUT HE can rescue us from ourselves- our failures, disappointments, our lost faith. He is the redeemer. I love you Jesus. Nobody but you.