shines in the early sunlight.

A new day beckons

Bright yellow flowers

dancing in the gentle breeze.

Playing at noon time

Falling leaves tumble,

a flurry of brown and red.

Busy days pass by

Snow crystal flowers

blooming on plants we thought dead.

Beauty also here.

First one and then another.

A woman,

Two men,

A couple of travellers,

A group,

A larger group.

.

One tells another, and they pass it on.

Good news spreads.

.

An empty tomb,

Folded grave clothes.

Angels in the garden.

Fear melting away into jubilation.

.

The Lord is risen.

.

Jesus is alive.

.

The world is a different place.

Everything has changed.

.

This is not the end but the beginning.

We all feel we should be making plans, working out how to get out of the city once the Sabbath is over. I know, I can see it in people’s faces.

Even though no one says anything.

We should, but somehow we seen paralysed. It is as if time has stopped.

Every now and again someone else arrives, and there is a murmur, first of worry at the sound of footsteps and then of relief and welcome as we see who it is.

But there are no words.

The twelve are in ruins. They are not twelve any more. Judas was never as close knit to that group, but now, well he’d never dare show his face. Peter would beat him to a pulp. Well he would if he were here. He’s disappeared and no one knows where. Andrew is pacing up and down, and we don’t know how to calm him. First his teacher dead and now his brother disappeared.

At least people dare approach Andrew. John and Mary sit together in a corner. They don’t talk, he just holds her as if she were weeping, only she has wept till there are no more tears left in her. There is an invisible line around them, no one goes near, and no looks directly at them.

There is some activity. Old Nicodemus and Joseph are by the table, scrolls of scripture spread out before them. Every now and again one of them looks up and shows the other something, but they look as baffled as the rest of us. Somehow there is a desperation in their searching, as if they want to try and prove the evidence of their eyes wrong and know they never will.

Is our Messiah dead?

Were we wrong in thinking he was Messiah?

This seems like the end of a dream. Only it has turned into a nightmare because we are still here.

And he isn’t.

.

Low in the grave he lay

Jesus my Saviour,

Waiting the coming day,

Jesus my Lord.

(Robert Lowery, 1874)

.

Low Saturday is the name given to the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

Wood from the tree.

Shaped by God into something beautiful,

Or by man into an instrument of death.

Who was the man who went willingly.

Who choose to pay the price for another?

My Saviour gave up the glory of heaven.

Just for me, and you.

He, who was pure,

Bled and died for me and you.

.

I wanted to write more today, but am still full of the images of the fells and lake, of blossom that I saw yesterday and the thoughts I had as I walked in the midst of it. That someone not only gave up a far more glorious place, for me, but did so by choice, willingly and gladly. The words of the hymn,

“That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,

He bled and died to take away my sin”

were resounding in my head as I strolled by the lake and resound still.

Christ’s death was not an accident.

It was not the sad result of betrayal by one man.

It was not something Jesus wanted, he feared it; but it was something he undertook willingly and gladly, because he knew what would result. That did not make those dark hours any easier to bear, it did not take away one iota of pain, but it did give purpose to it.

We mess up. We get things wrong. We take the beautiful and make it ugly. Not all the time, but even once is enough to mar the beautiful creation God made us to be.

Only Jesus didn’t mess up. Not only that but he choose death, and such a death because he knew it would remove all the stains we make as we try to cover up one mistake with another. He choose death because he knew by that he could take the broken people we become and make us whole. He chose death because he knew by it, he could make us beautiful once more.

He chose death because he loved us, and loves us still.

Of course death by itself would mean nothing more than yet another sacrifice. Friday was just an end. The beginning was yet to come.

.

When you eat, and when you drink,

Remember me.

.

When you sit at table with friends,

Or wrestle alone in the garden,

Remember me.

.

When you face difficult choices,

When the right way is also the painful way,

Remember me.

.

When you are lost, alone, betrayed,

When questions, sneers and taunts are all around,

Remember me.

.

When you face your accusers in silence,

Knowing that with one word you could walk away,

Remember me.

.

When you eat and when you drink,

Remember me.

.

Remember me in the daily round.

Remember me in ease.

Remember me in difficulty.

.

Remember you are loved.

Remember I chose your life over mine.

Remember how much I value you.

.

Remember me.

Remember love.

.

The events surrounding the last supper, Jesus praying in the garden and his arrest can be read in all the gospels, one account is Mark 14:12-72

.

I’ve seen him heal. I’ve heard him teach. I’ve lived beside him, day in day out for three years. I was even there when he raised Lazarus from the dead. I stood at his side as he called “Lazarus, come forth,” and I knew that the dead would walk. I sat in the boat when he called Peter to walk on the water, and again when he calmed the storm that put the fear of God into us all. Then we were more afraid, who has that power?

Only now I wonder, who has that power and refuses to use it?

Oh yes, it is all very well feeding a crowd, healing a blind beggar, raising a child who had died; but what good does it do? They are just individuals, and usually poor and powerless ones at that. I believed he was Messiah, we all did. I really believed it. We have been waiting so long for Messiah to come and deliver us. We have put up with one attack after another, Egypt, Babylonia, Syria, Seleucid and now Roman. We have groaned in our bondage and longed for Messiah to rise up and lead us.

But when he came he didn’t care.

That is the only way I can see it. He could do so much. This man can command the wind and the waves. He can heal lepers. He can raise the dead. Demons flee when he speaks. And he speaks to the poor, the lonely, those everyone else ignores for good reason. A waste.

At first it was fine. At first I could see reason to it. Support is important. A groundswell of common people who will form a cheering crowd, who will spread the word, who will give food and money. It was a good opportunity for him to practise speaking and teaching, to formulate what he was saying and to plan.

But it can’t stay like that. When I knew we were coming to Jerusalem I was hopeful that at last he would act. That the Romans and those who appease them like the chief priests would get what was coming to coming to them. I hoped he would ride in triumph, be acclaimed and show what we know he can do. Until he rode in on that bloody Donkey. Looking a fool.

And he has done nothing. Oh yes, he has taught. That is all he seems to do these days. Talk and talk. To be honest I don’t really understand all of it. Even when I think I’ve got it, he has an answer that makes me feel foolish. Like when I suggest selling perfume and giving to the poor he tells me the poor will always be there but he won’t. Maybe he just likes the attention of whores.  He sits in the temple or on the Mount of Olives and he teaches. He talks about how to live and about the end times, but he doesn’t DO anything. Nothing important. Nothing to show he cares for the whole nation. Nothing to rid us of the Romans. Instead he returns to Bethany, to fawning women and disciples who hang on his every word.

I’ve had enough. Either he isn’t Messiah or Messiah doesn’t care about us. Whichever I’ve just wasted three years of my life tramping around after someone who is more interested in the weak and lame than those who could help him make a difference.

I’m done with him.

.

Judas’ betrayal of Jesus can be found in the gospels: Matthew 26:6-16 Mark 14:1-11 Luke 26:1-6

Not the amount but the cost.

What does it cost me to give?

Do I give willingly from my little as well as from my plenty?

Do I give what I value?

If I give only that which has no value to me, what value do I place on the person to whom I give it?

Will I give my money, possessions, time, talent, friends, family, reputation, self?

What is the most costly thing I have to offer?

‘I am no longer my own but yours.
Put me to what you will,
rank me with whom you will;
put me to doing,
put me to suffering;
let me be employed for you,
or laid aside for you,
exalted for you,
or brought low for you;
let me be full,
let me be empty,
let me have all things,
let me have nothing:
I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things
to your pleasure and disposal.
And now, glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
you are mine and I am yours.’

(Methodist Covenant Service)

Who is this man?

A Passer by

I would never dare do that. Oh it needed doing, everyone knows the temple traders are the most corrupt, charge the highest prices and pay the biggest bribes but everyone still uses them, they are ‘approved’, they are convenient, they are the easy choice. Sometimes the only choice. We have all wished we could sacrifice without their ‘extra’ charges, wished we could pay the temple tax without their money changing fees; wished we could pray without their noise and smell; but they bring money into the temple coffers so the priests ignore the complaints. At passover it is at its worst. Today there was no room to pray, and even if there had been, who could find a reverent thought in that noise. Until he came. No one stopped him. He just turned the tables over and sent all the traders and money changers packing. Within half an hour they were gone, and suddenly everyone remaining was quiet, prayerful, and the whole place was different, special. I don’t know who he is, but no one else ever changed the atmosphere like that. The priests won’t like it. The traders won’t like it. I like it though. Today the temple was real. Who is the man who can do that?

A Trader

How dare he! Thief he called me, well I have a few names for him as well! He’s a thug, pure and simple. Chasing us out of the temple. We have a right to be there, we pay the priests a fortune for the best market stalls in the city. This guy thinks he knows about religion, but he’s no one. I hear he’s from Galilee and they are all know nowts up there. Thick as two short planks. And look at the rabble he hangs around with. Fishermen mainly without a penny between them. That sort shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the temple. How will we make any money if they scare away our customers? If they come near me again I’ll give them what for. Set about me with a whip that Jesus did, well next time I’ll be waiting. I don’t care who he is.

His Mother

Thirty three years and still he frightens me. I watched him grow, I know how he looks, sounds, smells, how his face crinkles when he smiles or frowns, how he walks, sits, snores, but I’ve never known how he thinks. I’ve never been able to predict what he will say. When I thought he would make himself noticed, he said it wasn’t his time. Now I want him to remain hidden, in Bethany, or better yet home by the lake, he makes himself noticed. I watch him and see what others do not see because I know him. I see that he is not rejoicing, he is not angry, he is not fighting. I see fear and determination in his face. My son is scared. I am scared. I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know what he will do. Sometimes I feel I don’t know who he really is but just now that doesn’t matter, he is my son and I fear what will become of him.

A Priest

I didn’t secretly cheer. Honest. I hate the traders as much as I hate the Romans. Jesus only did what we should have done a long time ago. If we could. We can’t though. We have to protect the faith, protect the temple, make sure that our people, the Jews are safe. We need to maintain the balance between appeasing our own and appeasing the Romans. We need to make sure that faith can be practised and these days that means changing Roman coin to temple coin. We can’t use temple coin to trade, nor defile the offering with Roman coin so changing it is the only option. We need to maintain the peace so the Romans allow us to continue to worship. If we anger them or cannot control our own then they will try to force their ways of worship on us and we can worship no one but God. Oh yes, Jesus is a hero, but this is no time for heroes. I heard that the chief priest has said that it is better that one man die to save a nation, and maybe that is where this will end. It is not nice, especially when he does so many of us wish we could, but it may be necessary. After all, he is just one man isn’t he?

.

This is based on the gospel accounts, Matt21:12-17; Mark11:12-19 and Luke 19:45-48

Last time I wrote about this story was as part of the Meetings with Jesus series – Ruined

To find a prayer for our children each day this week visit Floss

As these Pause in Lent posts are meant to be on the Sundays during Lent, this will technically be the last one…however I intend to post each day this next week with a final post on Easter Day and you are all welcome to join me each day. I want to post a reflection on different events, different Bible stories each day. I don’t know if they will be reflection, poetry, story or something else until I come to write and since I use writing as a way of meditating and thinking about the word of scripture I think I can safely say that the posts each day will be in the evening (uk time). I think it is also possible that they will reflect somewhat on the title of today’s post. Today of course I have written on the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem. If you wonder at the ‘of course’ then it is because in the church calender today is called ‘Palm Sunday’ and is the day at the beginning of the week leading up to Easter, called Holy Week. The traditional readings for today are about Jesus entering Jerusalem, acclaimed by the crowds and riding a donkey…links to the story are given at the end of the post.

Who is Jesus

Jesus is coming.

Riding on a donkey.

King.

Saviour.

Lord.

Master.

.

Hosanna, save us now.

Maranatha, come Lord.

.

The crowds wave their palms and shout.

The throng is noisy, cheerful, happy.

Jesus is coming.

The end is approaching.

This is what we have waited for.

The Son of David approaches.

.

Hosanna. Hosanna. HOSANNA!

.

Judas watches, thrilled. Here is the time for action, arise against the Romans and fight.

Peter watches confused. Should a king be on a donkey?

James and John watch excited. Here is the man who has done miracles and now the whole world will see him.

Mary Magdalene watches in worship. This man changed her life, he is her all in all.

His mother, also Mary watches in fear. She sees Jesus, he is solemn, this is not a celebration.

.

The crowd watch. Not knowing or caring. This is an event. This is the man people talk about. Now they can see him for themselves. This is an excuse to party. This is a way to rebel against the religious rulers. It doesn’t matter who he really is, today is about fun, festival.

.

The leaders of religion watch. Is there a threat to the careful peace they maintain with Rome? Is there a threat to their carefully worked out system of law and theology? Will they be challenged, have unpleasant truths uncovered?

.

Questions are asked.

Who is this man?

Who is Jesus?

.

How do we watch?

Who do we see?

Who is Jesus?

..

The story of Palm Sunday can be read:

Matthew 21:1-11

Mark11:1-11

Luke 19:28-44

John12:12-19

.

If you want to see how other people are Pausing today, then join Floss at Troc, Broc and Recup and follow through the list. I am about to do so now!

That is because I have more time and it is being filled with things I enjoy. My journey this Lent started with me giving up some things in order to try and reclaim lost time. I have found this challenging as I am by nature a procrastinator and time management has always been a big issue for me. I let time pass me by. Each week as I have reclaimed that time and put it to use I have found challenges. The challenge to be still. The challenge to be informed. The challenge to be surrendered. The challenge to be real.

This week, realising how much I have done; how many projects have been finished; how much more I have written; how many more books I have read; how much more time I have spent with the family; how much more time I have read inspiring blogs instead of playing mindless games; how much more I have enjoyed relaxing and doing what I do; I realise that another challenge of reclaiming time is the challenge to LIVE…to grab hold of life, jump on and go for the ride of a lifetime!

I get the feeling that as Easter approaches over the next two weeks I am going to be prompted to look at how to make my Lenten journey last. How the challenges I have discovered as I have sought to reclaim time can continue to be faced and how I can continue to reclaim my time. Hmm, if I think I am going to be prompted that way, maybe the prompting is already there!

I want to finish this post with a quote that has been running through my mind all week. It is from the Quaker booklet, Advices and Queries:

Live Adventurously. When choices arise, do you take the way that offers the fullest opportunity for the use of your gifts in the service of God and the community? Let your life speak… A&Q 27.

To read how other people are Pausing in Lent, join Floss and her friends at Troc, Broc and Recup