“It has not always been easy. At times it has been very hard. Sometimes I have wanted to throw my hands up in despair.”
A gently rolling hill covered in green grass; three wooden crosses silhouetted against a cloudless blue sky. A comfortable version of an uncomfortable reality. That is the image I have seen over and over again.
More than once, I have sat and thought about the crucifixion, about Christ's sacrifice. About the beating He endured, the mockery, the nails being pounded into His hands and feet, the crown of thorns upon His brow. I have been powerfully affected. I have shed tears knowing that Jesus was on that cross because I sinned. I accepted His sacrifice. I acknowledged what Jesus had done for me. I followed Him into the waters of baptism and emerged a new creation. And I offered my life in service to Jesus.
It has not always been easy. At times it has been very hard. Sometimes I have wanted to throw my hands up in despair. But I was able to persevere because I really knew that Jesus Christ loves me. No matter what I do or do not do, He promises to never forsake me. For almost eighteen years, with all the ups and downs that have occurred, I have never doubted that God loves me.
Then I watched Mel Gibson's "The Passion". I still know that God loves me. I sat in the theatre and I knew that. But somehow, I felt a connection with the people in that theatre, a connection like I had never felt before, in a crowd of people, most of whom I did not know. Why? Because I realized that God loves them-- each of them, individually, the same way He loves me.
When I saw Jesus in the garden praying, I knew I had led Him there. When I saw Judas betray Him, I thought that that could have been me. When I saw Peter deny Him, I knew I had been there. Silent tears rolled down my face as I felt my shame.
There were some scenes in the movie where I shut my eyes. I could not bear to watch. The sounds were still there, though, and so I had to open my eyes. I had to see what Jesus was doing for me.
Many times I have read through the gospels. But never until tonight did I realize what it meant for Jesus to be mocked. Those were not just words on a page. That was reality. He was almost killed by the beatings and was then expected to carry a cross through crowds of angry, hate-filled people. When Jesus was unable to fulfill this requirement, a man was chosen to carry His cross. In Gibson's story, Simon of Cyrene, does not want to carry the cross. He does so under protest, shouting that He is not a criminal and does not know this man.
He picks up the cross. He shares the load. He watches Jesus fall, get up and fall and get up again and again. He looks into his eyes and, without words, Jesus and Simon communicate. By the time they get to Calvary, Simon has changed. He has seen Jesus, the Son of God. And he is not unaffected. All of us who have accepted Jesus Christ as our Saviour must take that walk with Jesus. We, too, will never be the same.
I have known since I was a very small child that Jesus died for me. I do not remember the first time I heard the story. It was as much a part of my life as breathing. Tonight I saw Jesus bruised, bleeding, exhausted on the ground. I saw Him rise on His hands and knees and crawl to the cross and willingly place Himself upon it. I will never be the same.
Hazel is a wonderful friend who lives in Lower Sackville, Nova Scotia, Canada. Images used to create graphics were provided by "The Passion of the Christ official site.