Between you and me on Good Friday

You were born out of a great Light into a tiny world of darkness. Your mother wrapped you in swaddling rags and fed you. She wiped your face and cared for you. She rocked you and sang to you – she took care of you…so that you could take care of me.
You grew in wisdom and you learned. Your earthly father taught You how to build – how to use Your hands – how to live life here on earth, while your Abba Father in heaven taught you about Himself and how to use your hands to heal, to touch, to cleanse, to bless. He taught you how to love…so that you could love me.
You walked many miles, in dust and scorching sun. You sweated every day as you traveled long and weary roads. You walked and talked to your friends and to your enemies. You walked and talked…so that I would know how to walk and talk.
You wept for Jerusalem and for those who did not long to sit beneath your shelter. You cried for the unbelief – for the ignorance. You cried for my unbelief and ignorance. You wept for my rebellion. Your tears make me cry, and teach me what is worth crying about.
You surrounded yourself with people, with children – you related to every type of created – the small, the big, the short, the tall, the good, the bad, the sad, the happy, the faithful, the fearful, the unbelieving, the scoffer, the self-righteous, the apathetic, the lover, the hater, the sick, the dying, the afflicted, the forgotten. You accepted and loved each person you met. You accepted and loved me as you interacted with them.
You lived in awareness of who you were, what you were about – your focus was on serving and loving your Abba Father – showing Him to this tiny, dark world. You were the representative of the invisible God. You lived to bring His kingdom to all…you lived to bring His kingdom to me.
You prayed constantly to Your Abba Father. You sighed, you listened, you waited, you watched, you looked, you knew. You knew what He was saying to you. You prayed in the garden in anguish and despair. You experienced dread and agony. You did that for me. You prayed that prayer for me. You felt those feelings for me.
You were such a good man. You were obedient. Every act of righteousness was acted for me. Every choice You made was made for me. Every whip on your back was endured for me. Every drop of spit that hit your face was accepted for me. Every slanderous word, every wagging head, every look of contempt and hate that you received was received for me. Every thorn that pricked your scalp, every nail that punctured your skin, your bone, your muscle, your nerves –every breath that you labored under on the splintery, hard cross was breathed for me. Every blood drop, every blood gush, every ounce of pain was felt for me. Every loneliness, every abandonment, every rejection you carried was carried for me. And you didn’t deserve any of it…and I deserve it all.
How could this happen? How could this sweet , soft, smooth, tiny innocent baby go from a night of wonder and praise and silence and awe, go from the warmth of his momma’s embrace to this stark, empty cross where no one touched you – only the eyes of the world that you came to love, heal, forgive? How could you be up there on the spectacle of disgrace? You, the King of Heaven, the Creator of the Universe, the Holy One, the Reason for Existence – you hung up on that cross – naked and bleeding, tortured and despised.
How?
It is a mystery. It is a masterpiece. It is a miracle. It is beyond the highest ideal. It is beyond the most terrifying nightmare. It is heaven and it is hell. It is all goodness and it is all evil. It is Eden and it is the Germany of Hitler. It is me and it is my neighbor.
Oh innocent baby, coo me into your cradle, rock me into your presence. Oh innocent criminal, whisper to me as I hang beside you. Paint in my mind the picture of your face as a baby. And your face as you were dying. Those eyes would still be the same – those eyes that looked up at Mother Mary look over at me from the cross. Those eyes. I will look into those eyes and enter paradise…every day that I live and on the day that I die…into your very presence.
Thank You, Jesus.

(first written, 4/12/99)