Even the elements of Creation paused in horror. How could this be happening? What measure of Love accepts crucifixion to redeem a lost world? What kind of people smash rough nails through ankles and hands, offer vinegar and insults, and mock the dying Man?
Darkness came upon the Land. Earth quaked. The dead, disturbed, disturbed the city.
A hardened executioner, expert in Death, trembled and murmured “Surely this was the Son of God.” So the skies grieved and the angels recoiled and the laughter of Hell reached a crescendo- then stopped, dead.
This corpse is like no other. Hell has no power; Greatest of Accusers, Satan, falls silent, dreading the next Battle. Already the smoky deceit of the Liar is being challenged, confronted by Christ. “Send guards to the tomb! Seal the stone, the biggest of Stones, over a gaping grave…” Jesus is dead… yet He refuses to bow down to the Deathmaster.
Let Caiaphas sweat, and Pilate dream nightmares of an Innocent, let Herod the Fox hear the Hounds of Heaven scenting the quarry. Even an Emperor, far off in Rome, cannot command the Christ. Though Jesus gave up his spirit, his story does not finish on the Hill of the Skull.
“For on the Third Day…” said Jesus, “I will Rise.”
I like to think I’d stay strong like Simon Peter. You know, recognising Jesus as God’s Messiah, walking on water, all that strong man stuff. A person of faith, bold- even brash- courage, answering questions and sticking with my excellent reasons for following Jesus. Who else has words of eternal life?
Hang on, though. It’s Thursday in a couple of hours: and that’s when it all went wrong…
Jesus mentioned being betrayed: well, it won’t be by Peter, that’s as sure as anything! I’m the strong, loyal one. But… didn’t Jesus say “Before the cockerel crows, Peter, you will deny Me three times.” Surely not, Lord, that’s as unlikely as Judas selling you out to the authorities! Must have misheard.
Peter, now in a cold sweat. So much happening, a cold garden, noisy soldiers, a slashing sword, and Jesus led away… “What are they doing to Him in there? I can’t go until I know… perhaps they’ll let Jesus go after all. Hot fire. I’ll just wait here. No, I don’t want to talk, just shut up. Leave me to my thoughts. Jesus? Did I hear His name? They’re talking about Him – Who me? NO, not me. Yes, the accent gives me away, I’m Galilean. No, I don’t know him. Will you just shut UP… For heaven’s sake… I never EVER knew Jesus!”
Talking Cockerel, stage left. “Pardon? O Peter, did you really… did you say you never knew him? Look at those flames, Peter. Burning like the garbage in Gehenna… bet you feel rubbish now, Peter. Hey, where are you going?”
Bystanders round the fire. “Yeah, he was a Galilean, I bet he did know him in there. Not got the guts to hang around, though! Not much of a friend… Where’s the Galilee man gone to, d’you think? That one in there, that Jesus, I heard he came to town like a king on a donkey… I heard him speaking once, seemed rather wonderful, but going against the establishment like that… wouldn’t want to be where he’s going…”
So I wonder. Would I have stayed by the fire? Would I have said “OH yes, I know Jesus, let I tell you what He’s like…”
Or just another betrayer doing a runner? Lord Jesus, forgive the feebleness of my heart… just as you forgave Peter…
Grey, dull miserable… that’s just the BBC. Outside: add drizzling, damp, cool, windy weather. What a start to Wednesday.
Then the display of orchids on my windowsill changed the way I perceived the day. A white one with yellow and pink; yellow and purple with two sprays of blooms; and the purple and white-spotted one. Immediately, my mind shifted gear: and I wrote a few lines trying to capture in words what I was feeling. The shape and colour fascinated and inspired heart and soul: such exotic beauty lifted my spirits and restored joy to life. So, go find a flower!
The WAY we see is as important as WHAT we see. Our perception of life is determined by our focus and choices.
“Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.” Henri Nouwen
So my view of today has been shaped by the vivid creative imagination of God, who thought about orchids- and I’m deeply grateful for living joy!
Even better than any poem, and even more wonderful than an orchid, as we get closer to Good Friday & Easter Sunday we can focus on Jesus. The story of his final journey is full of rich teaching and memorable moments and records his determination to fulfil his mission, whatever the personal cost. Reading this story will change the way we see life- because Jesus changed the ending. How then shall we live?
“Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”
Monday- the day after Resurrection Day. I wonder if John, the “beloved disciple”, started making notes? If John kept a diary…….
Dear Diary, I’m so happy I could burst! I hardly dared believe at first. Those dear, dear women, so excited, so scared, so certain. Then so out of breath, racing Peter to go and see for myself. I just couldn’t bring myself to go in. What if he was still there, dead? What if he wasn’t?
Not sure which thought was scarier!
Somehow, deep down, I knew it… and when Peter went in, his cry of astonishment gave me the courage to see for myself. Just the linens there, Jesus was gone. Such a strange day- what are you supposed to do when the dead friend isn’t there? Go for breakfast? Find some wine? Hide?
Mary of Magdala told us “I have SEEN the Lord!” She said Jesus spoke to her, I must check with her later exactly what Jesus talked about. Someone should write it all down so we don’t forget.
Anyway, we got together last night, the gang and me. Except Judas, of course… and Thomas. Don’t remember why Thomas was missing, I must ask him. He really missed out! We were all pretty jittery- so we locked ourselves in. Don’t suppose that would have stopped the guards if they turned up, but it felt a bit reassuring.
HE came in. No warning, door still locked, and looked at us- bunch of frightened rabbits that we were!
“Peace be with you.”
Immediately, the fear melted into the most wonderful joyous amazement! Laugh, cry, shout, fall down- I can’t really remember what I did- but it was glorious. The Marys all cried- there were tears of joy in my eyes, I can tell you. His Mum, well, sort of MY mother now, that’s going to take some getting used to! But I will look after her, I will, it’s the last thing Jesus asked of me. But if he’s alive again, erm, a dead man walking, no, no, a LIVE man talking! What happens next?
“Receive the Holy Spirit…”
I have a funny feeling feeling we haven’t heard the last of this.
How to explain this? A dead man taken down from that awful, hideous cross, hurriedly buried in solid rock, guards and all… now we don’t have a tomb to grieve at, the Cross is empty, and Jesus saying and doing stuff I can’t get my head round yet. How can I tell Thomas all this- what’s he going to think? Will he even believe us? I wish Jesus could have told him personally, Thomas will probably think we’re hysterical and imagining things.
Well, diary of mine, it’s getting late. I don’t know if I’ll get off to sleep tonight, but the oil in the lamp is pretty low, I’ve got some more, but I’m too tired.
It’s the eyes, you know. Those lovely eyes that look right inside and burn with a holy love. He looked right at me… he smiled, a little smile just for me, and he knew EVERYTHING I was thinking and feeling, and the sorrow and joy in his heart made me shiver and go hot all at once. All my worst fears, and my biggest hopes, they were reflected in his eyes. You know, it’s going to be alright.
There will be some shocked faces in Jerusalem in the morning. Will anyone believe us? “I have come that you may have life, REAL life…” That quote will be useful, I know it will. Real life.
REAL life. That’ll get me going in the morning. I wonder if Jesus will be back tomorrow… or the day after?
But this bleak hill could tell a story… Uncounted years of sunshine and rain, stone cracking, wind blowing, history made and forgotten, footprints lost, memories murmured by melancholic men thinking of one hill, three crosses, and one Saviour.
God painted a canvas of mercy weaved into pain. Red blood, black flies, darkest sky and a crown with sharpest spikes on the head of the gentlest of Men, on the Hill they called the Place of the Skull. How apt indeed, place for solving inconvenient truth and inconvenient men!
Three victims there, and two deserved to die- the Other, here for a reason greater than the spite of conspiracies, jealousies, and fear.
We call it Good Friday, this saddest of days, when Death bit the bullet and swallowed itself. Hate did its worst- He breathed his last, the cry resounding from heaven to hell as Jesus tore open a doorway to Life.
The longest Friday. A few heroes, a broken hearted mother, rough soldiers, cruelly efficient, with onlookers weeping or carping- then gentle, sorrowful hands a cool palace of bedrock for the King of all Kings.
All hope seems suspended. The planet on pause- so much in the balance, who weighted the scales? Poets and prophets speak pictures and the critics complain, veiled hints and becomings unclear to their minds.
A red rose- the flower of romance. This little bud shows off the best quality of real love- resilience. Despite shocking weather for July (strong winds and heavy showers) it has blossomed boldly. The scarlet is intense, the fragrance delightful. Entirely suitable for a romantic gift to my sweetheart.
Yet if you look closely, you see the scars that it bears. The outer petals have been marked by the onslaught of the elements. Discolouration and ragged edges prove this rose is not just for a passing fancy. More than romance, this red rose speaks of true love.
Our constant flirting with romance and sensuality can cheapen our appreciation of real love. Lovers bear scars from the rough edges of life; lovers have learned to go through troubles and survive them. None of us can control the circumstances we will face over the years- but to be accompanied with true love means we face life with renewed gratitude for the good things, and shared sorrows for the sadness and loss that comes to us all.
For Juliet and I, a red rose brings back memories. We became acquainted through our church, and began the journey of discovery and joy that led us to our wedding. I wore a red rose in my lapel.
There is a deeper love that we have shared: it’s the Love we have discovered through Jesus Christ. It would take too long to tell our story; and some parts of it we will keep private. However, we can say that through our 33 years of marriage, there is a golden thread that binds us, and leads us to the Presence of the Christ that has been with us in joy, sorrow, confusion and uncertainty. Health issues have cropped up, and scared us silly. Believing in God, and trusting Him, is not a red carpet walk to dreamland! It’s about real life, real people, and continuing to trust whilst holding onto promises made and received.
When I was a kid, bumps and bruises could be sorted by getting Mum to “kiss it better.” Adults don’t qualify for that therapy! But sharing the best and worst of times, committed to holding each other up, and knowing that the greatest Love the world could ever know is a present Reality… well, there are scars but they are marks of triumph as well as suffering. The Christian good news is of a Saviour with scars, a Lord with the bruises of battle. Death and Resurrection… the first sounds so final, until you realise that Jesus defeated Death- and in His Resurrection, he triumphed for eternity.
To wonder if Jesus toyed with the idea of running away from the Cross… then to understand He embraced its cruel kiss. This is where the scars came from. If God were to sent you a red rose- would you reject it because its scarred marking, or rejoice in the resilience of True Love?
I wish I could give God a rose to say “Thank you.”
I don’t think He’d mind if it showed a few blemishes, some scars from the journey. I’m learning to be resilient, to keep on getting back to my feet after I stumble. I keep visualising an Arm across my shoulders, hearing an encouraging whisper in my ear, and picking up a fragrance that makes even the reddest rose seem not quite heavenly. Yet.
Thank You, Lord, for a resilient rosebud that taught me a valuable lesson today. Amen!
So what am I supposed to do today? Yesterday was Good Friday. I reflected on and, as every Good Friday, remembered the horrifyingly cruel and unjust suffering of Jesus on the Cross. The worst that humankind could do to the One who loved us unconditionally with His arms stretched wide open. Deep grief with a strange sense of thankfulness: “It is finished” were words that declared the end of the beginning.
Tomorrow is Resurrection Sunday, Easter Day, when we will celebrate the Resurrection of Christ- dead, buried, cast aside, then gloriously vindicated through the death of Death, the outpouring of glory and the Beginning of new Beginnings. Wonder, gratitude, laughter, tears- He is Risen! Disciples coping with the unthinkable. “We have seen the Lord” the greeting that lit flames of hope in broken hearts.
Today? Holy Saturday. What am I supposed to do?
My photo today comes from a butterfly hatchery where assorted shapes and sizes of chrysalis hang silently on their frame. Just waiting. Inside, an astounding transformation is taking place. No longer caterpillar, not yet butterfly…
Waiting is essential. It takes as long as it takes. Any attempt to “help” them along will kill or maim- even when they begin to emerge, the actual physical struggle is vital to develop and strengthen their wings. Haste will destroy them or condemn to a land-bound crawling weakling existence, doomed to an early end. Just wait, and watch. The process cannot be hurried, the outcome more beautiful than we expect.
It begins… the new insect arrives, the shell is discarded. When out of their cradle, butterfly wings of beautiful pattern unfold. Brown, with exquisite “eyes” and coloured markings… the best is yet to come. At the right time, the wings open and a richly spectacular vibrant blue announces a joy-bringer has come to the world! Whoever sees this butterfly will be gifted with beauty beyond imagining. A brown “lump” has become a work of art!
Holy Saturday. Just WAIT.
I shall get on with my day. Whatever activities may require my attention, whatever pleasant distractions come my way, whatever pain or sadness is in “my” world, I am waiting.
Waiting for LIFE to be announced afresh. For a certainty of forgiveness, reconciliation, purpose. To echo the cry of nearly two thousand years- “Christ is risen- He is Risen indeed!”
God’s Love came down to Earth. Now He rises to open the gates of the New Creation and invite us within. For now… today…
Designed for use on the Fridays in Lent, this collection of photographs and reflections guides a way through the journey towards Good Friday and Easter Sunday.
The meditations are accessible from the top menu of the Home page, or you can download the pdf file (free) to your device or to print out.
May the Lord guide and bless you in this time of spiritual renewal.
I’m ready to enjoy Christmas. It will have a particular resonance this year. For over thirty years I have celebrated a “professional” Christmas: yes, I believe in the message and meaning of Christmas, but when my role was to enable others to understand and live Christmas it could become repetitive or stale. I’ve always tried my best, because I love Christmas and enjoy it myself!
This year is different. A couple of months ago I was brought up short when the doctor suggested some extra tests. In no time at all (well done the NHS) I was face to face with a surgeon who explained I had cancer in the large intestine… and then set out the risks involved in treatment. Stark truth! The alternative would be no treatment, and sooner or later I would die.
Now then, I am not just a “professional” Christian, a minister who teaches others about faith. I really do believe and trust in the good news that Jesus proclaimed. It isn’t “just” a religion, it is a living experience that has demanded (and still does) an active obedience which has shaped the whole of my adult life.
But to be confronted with “This could kill you” makes things very real, very quickly.
Surgery went well, although the recovery took longer than expected, and now I am home in time for Christmas. The long, lonely & noisy hours on the ward shared with seven very sick men became a time to think about life, faith, and mortality. Helplessly subject to the regime of the hospital, it would be easy to despair. That way is dangerous. I am truly thankful that I kept hoping and trusting. I wish I could say it was a deeply spiritual experience. Honestly, it was a dark road… but illuminated by shafts of light and gradually moving toward a clear sky and a hope-filled future.
The experience reminded me of a song I wrote 15 years ago. “Love of a Different Kind” tries to relate the first Christmas, the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, to the rest of His life- and even to His death and resurrection. When we sing carols about the angels, the Star, the Baby, and those humbly obedient human beings (Joseph, Mary, the shepherds…) we are declaring that what the human race needed and needs is a love of a different kind. No ordinary affection, no pretty story, no fictional hero- but TRUE love. God proving that He is always involved in the life of this tiny planet set in a vast sea of stars. As Graham Kendrick memorably wrote, “the hands that flung stars into space” are the hands that were crucified.
Surely, after the year we’ve all had, the song of love to Man and peace on Earth is one we should all listen to with open hearts. May we all have a memorably lovely Christmas.
When shepherds came, and angels sang “Glory to God!” Who would have thought this was the night when history changed? What can this mean? Love of a different kind!
The baby grew, as babies do, love in his heart. No-one has seen a love like this- so is it a dream? What does it mean? Love of a different kind!
The Light that shone in heav’n above is shining now. The world is full of darkness yet hope lingers on. What can it mean? Love of a different kind!
Two arms out-stretch’d, a crown of thorns, beginning or end? The song is sung of love to man, and peace on Earth. It’s not a dream! Love of a different kind.
A Saviour’s song, that fights the pride, which keeps us away: But what a price to find the lost did Jesus pay! Glory to God! Love of a different kind.
Theory is great. It’s an idea to be played with, debated, discarded or adopted.
Moving from theory to practice is different. As I watched the para-gliders taking off over the Alpine peaks and valleys, I firmly decided this was not for me. Vertigo and perpendicular cliffs don’t really make a good mix.
Some were experts. One was not. Most took off smoothly. One did not; it took several attempts, flailing on the edge. Phew!
Once airborne the para-glider is committed. Presumably they enjoy the adrenaline (and the views are spectacular!)
Christian faith has similarities. We can play it safe, keep it theoretical, and fail to put faith to work. Bet God loves that.
Or we can step out, taking faith for a flight, and believe that God keeps hold of us when we try to fly.
A prayer for the moment:
Lord Jesus,
I took you at your Word and I’m ready to take off.
My faith is pretty flimsy, though, and it’s a long way down…
Please hold me up and help me reach the end of this flight.
I’d like to ask You to make sure I enjoy the trip.
But I suspect You don’t guarantee that.
You do say that we are working with You
to change the world and bring Love to people everywhere.
That sounds worthwhile, if a bit alarming!
Me? Really make a difference?
Well, me PLUS You- that should be OK.
The hardest bit is taking that first step.
Lord, please, may You Spirit help me find courage
and then determination- I choose to trust You.
Lord, I don’t know what I will see on this adventure.
I don’t know exactly how or when it will finish-
but I think it could be the biggest and best step for me.
You say “Follow.”
I’ll say “Yes.”
Please forgive me when I’d rather say “no” and stay a theoretical Christian… I want to live by Your purpose, and remember that You went all the way to the Cross.
Don’t let me fall… it’s such a long way down.
Here we go, Jesus! Take a good grip, please,
and don’t let go! Amen.
A prayer for the moment:
Look, See, Pray 