Were You There
Verses 1-2; Psalter Hymnal (Gray), 1987
Source: hymnary.org (referenced 03.03.18)
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
************
Luke 19:41-44 (NIV, 1984)
As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, "If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God's coming to you."
Saturday, March 3, 2018
Friday, March 2, 2018
Station 3: Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem | Reflection by Janet Calhoun
Years ago, I was cast in a production of the American classic, Our Town. In the show I played a mother whose daughter was getting married and during the wedding scene, I was supposed to burst out into tears. As hard as I tried, I could not make it happen. I had envisioned my character as a kind but stern disciplinarian who didn’t believe her daughter was making the right choice. Crying was not on the menu. Seeing my difficulty, the director pulled me aside and reminded me that she was my daughter and that above all else, I loved her. That very small shift in thought changed everything. I suddenly saw that my child, the one I loved, raised, and protected, was grown up and leaving home—a genuine reason to burst out into tears. Looking at the situation through the lens of love allowed me to see into the heart and understand the real motivation and story.
So what does any of that have to do with the daughters of Jerusalem who followed Jesus wailing and lamenting him along the Via Dolorosa? Growing up, I saw God as sometimes kind but always a stern disciplinarian and to me, Jesus’ words always sounded harsh. "Oh ye of little faith…" (e.g., Lk. 12:28, KJV), "You unbelieving and perverse generation…" (Lk. 9:41, NIV), "Let the dead bury their own dead" (Lk. 9:60, NIV). Then one day, a thought took hold. What would happen if I read Jesus’ words with tenderness, as though he loved me? Wow! Again, applying the lens of love yielded dramatic results.
When I first read the Passion scene in Luke, it was through my hurt, angry, and worldly eyes. If I was the one beaten, scourged and being led to the Place of the Skull, I would be angry at being falsely accused and convicted, tortured and humiliated. My last words would be seething, and anything I had to say to anyone who looked on would be harsh and full of curses, giving those around me cause to simply turn away. However, through the lens of love, I see a different scene:
Through the narrow streets with scoffers pressing in, Jesus, broken and stumbling and tortured beyond recognition, is followed by a small group of women. These women, following the blood, are moved by what they see: an innocent man tortured and sentenced to die. Yet, Scripture does not identify them as His followers, so it is likely they did not fully understand nor see the whole truth unfolding before them; therefore, their lamentations and tears were misguided. Perhaps Jesus stumbles again and, as he rises, he looks up and sees them with their wet cheeks. Then, not with a loud and booming voice that all can hear but with a hoarse yet resolute voice says to these women, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never gave suck!' Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us'; and to the hills, ‘Cover us.' For if they do this when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?" (Luke 23:28-31, RSV).
On the surface it sounds like a bitter admonishment, yet through the lens of love I see that, even as he makes his way to the cross, he looks at those he loves, tries to reach them, to warn them, and to move them to weep tears of true repentance rather than tears of pity. What I hear Jesus say is, "Oh my children of Jerusalem, your tears are misdirected. Weep for yourselves and for your children, for you did not recognize me. Behold, there is coming a time far more devastating than this. Then your suffering will be so great that it will be seen as a blessing to not have children, for you will not have to watch them suffer and die. When that time comes, you will be crying out to be covered by the mountains and the hills, crying out for death. Look! Look at what they have done to the innocent, the wood that is green. Imagine what will be done to the guilty, the wood that is dry."
I see this station of the cross as Jesus’ final prophecy and appeal to repentance, an act of love on the way to the cross.
Oh Lord, as you lead us to the cross, open our eyes to see the truth of our own iniquity, and open our ears to Yeshua’s cry to repentance.
So what does any of that have to do with the daughters of Jerusalem who followed Jesus wailing and lamenting him along the Via Dolorosa? Growing up, I saw God as sometimes kind but always a stern disciplinarian and to me, Jesus’ words always sounded harsh. "Oh ye of little faith…" (e.g., Lk. 12:28, KJV), "You unbelieving and perverse generation…" (Lk. 9:41, NIV), "Let the dead bury their own dead" (Lk. 9:60, NIV). Then one day, a thought took hold. What would happen if I read Jesus’ words with tenderness, as though he loved me? Wow! Again, applying the lens of love yielded dramatic results.
When I first read the Passion scene in Luke, it was through my hurt, angry, and worldly eyes. If I was the one beaten, scourged and being led to the Place of the Skull, I would be angry at being falsely accused and convicted, tortured and humiliated. My last words would be seething, and anything I had to say to anyone who looked on would be harsh and full of curses, giving those around me cause to simply turn away. However, through the lens of love, I see a different scene:
Through the narrow streets with scoffers pressing in, Jesus, broken and stumbling and tortured beyond recognition, is followed by a small group of women. These women, following the blood, are moved by what they see: an innocent man tortured and sentenced to die. Yet, Scripture does not identify them as His followers, so it is likely they did not fully understand nor see the whole truth unfolding before them; therefore, their lamentations and tears were misguided. Perhaps Jesus stumbles again and, as he rises, he looks up and sees them with their wet cheeks. Then, not with a loud and booming voice that all can hear but with a hoarse yet resolute voice says to these women, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never gave suck!' Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us'; and to the hills, ‘Cover us.' For if they do this when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?" (Luke 23:28-31, RSV).
On the surface it sounds like a bitter admonishment, yet through the lens of love I see that, even as he makes his way to the cross, he looks at those he loves, tries to reach them, to warn them, and to move them to weep tears of true repentance rather than tears of pity. What I hear Jesus say is, "Oh my children of Jerusalem, your tears are misdirected. Weep for yourselves and for your children, for you did not recognize me. Behold, there is coming a time far more devastating than this. Then your suffering will be so great that it will be seen as a blessing to not have children, for you will not have to watch them suffer and die. When that time comes, you will be crying out to be covered by the mountains and the hills, crying out for death. Look! Look at what they have done to the innocent, the wood that is green. Imagine what will be done to the guilty, the wood that is dry."
I see this station of the cross as Jesus’ final prophecy and appeal to repentance, an act of love on the way to the cross.
Oh Lord, as you lead us to the cross, open our eyes to see the truth of our own iniquity, and open our ears to Yeshua’s cry to repentance.
Thursday, March 1, 2018
Station 3: Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem
Luke 23:26-31 (ESV)
And as they led him away, they seized one Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and laid on him the cross, to carry it behind Jesus. And there followed him a great multitude of the people and of women who were mourning and lamenting for him. But turning to them Jesus said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, 'Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!' Then they will begin to say to the mountains, 'Fall on us,' and to the hills, 'Cover us.' For if they do these things when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?"
And as they led him away, they seized one Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and laid on him the cross, to carry it behind Jesus. And there followed him a great multitude of the people and of women who were mourning and lamenting for him. But turning to them Jesus said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, 'Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!' Then they will begin to say to the mountains, 'Fall on us,' and to the hills, 'Cover us.' For if they do these things when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?"
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Taking a Breath: Remembering our Larger Theme | Reflection by Amber Ross
Lead me to your cross. We sing this song together on Sunday mornings, but now we choose to walk it out on Monday mornings as well. We choose to live out the reality of this on Tuesday. And we seek to pursue the significance on Wednesday. Thursday we are overwhelmed with the weight of it, and Friday we are met in the grace that flows from it. Most likely on a Saturday, we are feeling what the disciples must have felt the three days Jesus was gone. And Sunday we do it all over again. For the next 40 days we have made this our anthem.
By now, we have probably come to realize two things, 1) that this is not an easy process but, 2) it is so worth it. As we are growing and maturing in understanding, we are expanding our capacities to understand what the cross means. The cross is heavy, and rightfully so: it carries the weight of eternity. One of the greatest things you and I have in common is the result the cross had for us. At once, we were all doomed to the fate of the cross, but God in His infinite glory allowed for His Son to suffer for our sake. In His sinless life, Jesus was able to bear the cross of all men and women.
We live every day of our lives with this freedom. But how often do we recognize it or acknowledge it—especially the fact that the freedom was granted from suffering? Because one Friday about 2,000 years ago, during the sixth hour darkness fell over a hill. Then three hours later, the one who came to save us, the one called Messiah, hung his head as the cup of suffering surged through His veins as He breathed His last. The veil tore, the earth shook, and the rocks split. And there it was: in these three days, He defeated death. We were granted our freedom that Sunday, when He rose as the sun did.
So as we go throughout the next forty days, may we be granted a better understanding of the way of Jesus, of His journey to the cross, and its implications for us now.
"Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it. And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul? Is anything worth more than your soul?'" (Matthew 16:24-26, NLT).
By now, we have probably come to realize two things, 1) that this is not an easy process but, 2) it is so worth it. As we are growing and maturing in understanding, we are expanding our capacities to understand what the cross means. The cross is heavy, and rightfully so: it carries the weight of eternity. One of the greatest things you and I have in common is the result the cross had for us. At once, we were all doomed to the fate of the cross, but God in His infinite glory allowed for His Son to suffer for our sake. In His sinless life, Jesus was able to bear the cross of all men and women.
We live every day of our lives with this freedom. But how often do we recognize it or acknowledge it—especially the fact that the freedom was granted from suffering? Because one Friday about 2,000 years ago, during the sixth hour darkness fell over a hill. Then three hours later, the one who came to save us, the one called Messiah, hung his head as the cup of suffering surged through His veins as He breathed His last. The veil tore, the earth shook, and the rocks split. And there it was: in these three days, He defeated death. We were granted our freedom that Sunday, when He rose as the sun did.
So as we go throughout the next forty days, may we be granted a better understanding of the way of Jesus, of His journey to the cross, and its implications for us now.
"Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it. And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul? Is anything worth more than your soul?'" (Matthew 16:24-26, NLT).
Monday, February 26, 2018
Station 2: Simon helps carry the cross | Reflection by Tara Warner
As I consider this week’s station, Simon Carries the Cross, I can’t help but think of my word for the new year. Do you do that? Do you have a word for the new year? It’s a bit of a new trend, but instead of having a resolution, you choose a main idea/focus for the year. I love praying over what that word could be. I’ve only started in the last 3-4 years, but I enjoy it. It’s nice to quiet myself and ask the Lord what His heart is for me.
This year, the word I was given was diligent. My focus is to be diligent in my relationships, work, goals, etc. Nothing fancy, no big fanfare, just diligence. I was really struck with the simplicity of it:
In just a few short weeks, that one little word has radically changed me. It’s weird because I am not doing much that is different. The biggest change is that I wake up and ask our Father, “What are Your plans for me today?” (That’s kind of funny because as a mom who runs a family of 8, I know what’s going on that day.) Yet, that one question, paired with my goal to be diligent, has transformed me.
For some reason I had it in my head that Jesus was off on the sidelines coaching me. Or maybe He was away and I was working for Him, like the different masters Jesus tells parables about throughout the gospels.
Yet as I read “And as they led him away, they seized one Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and laid on him the cross, to carry it behind Jesus” (Luke 23:26, NIV), I see a man who was given a task that was painstaking. He took that cross, Jesus’ shame, and carried it.
Other words from Jesus echo as I read about Simon: “For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:30, NIV)...”Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24, NIV). Wow! Simon actually got to live it. He’s not the only one; we’re invited to follow this example: to live out each day in the same steps as our Savior, following Him to the cross. We’re invited to stay diligent, steadily following Him, and be with Him as we go about tasks.
This year, the word I was given was diligent. My focus is to be diligent in my relationships, work, goals, etc. Nothing fancy, no big fanfare, just diligence. I was really struck with the simplicity of it:
Dictionary.com defines diligent as: constant in effort to accomplish something; attentive and persistent in doing anything; done or pursued with persevering attention.
Merriam-Webster defines diligent as: characterized by steady, earnest, and energetic effort: painstaking.
In just a few short weeks, that one little word has radically changed me. It’s weird because I am not doing much that is different. The biggest change is that I wake up and ask our Father, “What are Your plans for me today?” (That’s kind of funny because as a mom who runs a family of 8, I know what’s going on that day.) Yet, that one question, paired with my goal to be diligent, has transformed me.
For some reason I had it in my head that Jesus was off on the sidelines coaching me. Or maybe He was away and I was working for Him, like the different masters Jesus tells parables about throughout the gospels.
Yet as I read “And as they led him away, they seized one Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and laid on him the cross, to carry it behind Jesus” (Luke 23:26, NIV), I see a man who was given a task that was painstaking. He took that cross, Jesus’ shame, and carried it.
Other words from Jesus echo as I read about Simon: “For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:30, NIV)...”Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24, NIV). Wow! Simon actually got to live it. He’s not the only one; we’re invited to follow this example: to live out each day in the same steps as our Savior, following Him to the cross. We’re invited to stay diligent, steadily following Him, and be with Him as we go about tasks.
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Station 2: Simon helps carry the cross | "I Am Real" - by Jeanne Louise Smith
In my heart
I can feel it
Reeling me in
Let God break through the mold.
Your power is sold
Just like I told you
Do what God tells you
Can you feel the strength?
I Am Real!
Don't be fooled!
I am not fake
All the hearts you have taken!
I can feel it
Reeling me in
Let God break through the mold.
Your power is sold
Just like I told you
Do what God tells you
Can you feel the strength?
I Am Real!
Don't be fooled!
I am not fake
All the hearts you have taken!
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