What a passionate love we may have for our sweet Jesus.
To think of his last few days is to experience so very many emotions.
Grief. Sincerity. Anger. Thankfulness. Distraught. Praise.
It’s a story of a twisted irony.
It’s a story that burns the depths of my heart.
It’s a story that tells of a love too sweet to even explain.
It’s the story, my friends, of our sweet, sweet Jesus.
Jesus was standing in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Judas, his disciple, his friend…. Greeted him with a kiss.
And just like that, Jesus was betrayed.
Betrayed by a kiss.
What twisted irony, that Love himself was betrayed by a kiss.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, he was betrayed by a kiss.
Jesus was before the council, but they found nothing wrong.
Jesus stood silent before the courts.
People yelled, they accused, and lied.
What twisted irony that the one who spoke this world into creation, the one who breathed life into our souls… was silent.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, he stood silent before the courts.
The morning came, and they decided to put Jesus to death. They bound him, and delivered him over to Pilate.
What twisted irony that they bound the one who breaks our chains.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, he was bound.
The crowd had a choice to release a prisoner. There was Barabbas, a notorious sinner, and Jesus.
The governor asked the crowd, “Which of the two do you want me to release to you?”
The crowd wanted Barabbas.
They yelled to crucify Jesus. And when the governor asked what should happen to Jesus.. they yelled for him to be crucified.
What twisted irony that the sinners yelled to the saint to be crucified.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, he was delivered to be crucified.
The governor, Pilate, saw a riot was beginning. So he took water and washed his hands before the crowd. He said, “I am innocent of this man’s blood.. see to it yourselves.”
And he gave Jesus to the crowd.
What twisted irony that a man thought that he was physically innocent from a death meant to cleanse him spiritually.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, he went with the crowd.
The soldiers took him, stripped him, and dressed him in a scarlet robe.
What twisted irony that the spotless lamb, the beloved saint, the pure white king would wear a scarlet robe.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, he was dressed in scarlet.
The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorn, and placed it on his head.
What twisted irony that the King of Kings, the one who rules Heaven, the one crowned with glory for eternity, would wear a crown of thorns.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, he wore a crown of thorns.
They mocked him. They knelt before him. They cried out, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They beat him.
What twisted irony, for one day every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, this is our sweet Jesus.
And they led him away to be crucified. They ventured to Golgotha, the Place of the Skull. The people made a man of Cyrene, Simon, to carry his cross.
What twisted irony, that Simon of Cyrene would physically carry the cross that we now bear.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, marching up to the Place of the Skull.
They gave him wine, but it was wine mixed with gall; it was sour.
What twisted irony, that Jesus had just taken wine and bread, saying it symbolizes his blood and body.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, his blood was about to be poured out.
A sign was put over his head, a sign that read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.”
What twisted irony, that he will come back with the name written on his thigh, Faithful and True.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus, underneath the sign of mockers.
Two robbers were crucified next to him, one on the right and one on the left.
What twisted irony, the perfect, innocent, beautiful Son of God dying a criminal’s death.
Yet this is my sweet Jesus.
They yelled, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he desires him. For he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’”
What twisted irony, for he didn’t save himself- He saved us. What twisted irony, for He is not only the King of Israel, but the King of Kings. What twisted irony, for God delivered Him to death in order to victoriously deliver Him to life.
Oh what twisted irony, for He is the Son of God.
Yet this is our sweet Jesus.
And the sixth hour came. Darkness was all over the land.
And the ninth hour came.
Jesus cried out, “Eli, eli, lema sabachthani.”
“My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”
And he died.
This is our sweet, sweet Jesus, hanging on the cross.
The temple curtain was torn in two with a loud rip.
There was no longer any veil in between the heavenly places and here.
The earth shook.
And a man cried out, “Truly, this was the Son of God.”
Oh, my friends, may we have a passion worthy of His name.
May we be filled with the passion of the cross.
May we be filled with the passion of the last breath of Jesus.
May we be filled with the passion of the torn veil.
May we be filled with the passion of our resurrected King.
Because, my friends, our sweet Jesus did not stay in the grave. He did not stay in the tomb.
What joy do we have that Jesus is risen, that he is risen in glory and glory and glory.
What heart-wrenching awe must we have that we have a King, named Faithful and True, was is raised in victory and now seated at the right hand of our God in Heaven.
May we press into this story of Love himself.
May we cultivate a raw love and searing passion for His name.
May we fall at the feet of the His nail-pierced feet, in utter agony and thankfulness.
And may we fall at the feet of His glorious throne, in utter joy and praise.
He loves you so much, my dear friend.
So very much.
With much, much love. And a heart mixed with deep emotions. –Melissa
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