CONTEMPLATING THE CROSS: A FORTY DAY PILGRIMAGE OF PRAYER

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT -- One Last Act of Caring

Whenever anything disagreeable or displeasing happens to you remember Christ crucified and be silent. —John of the Cross

Reflect

Prepare your heart to receive from God today and to give back to Him. Spend a few minutes reflecting on how He has blessed your life. Thank Him aloud specifically for these things. Offer these verses as a prayer back to God:

My heart is steadfast, O God; I will sing, I will sing praises, even with my soul. Awake, harp and lyre; I will awaken the dawn! I will give thanks to you, O LORD, among the peoples, and I will sing praises to You among the nations. For Your lovingkindness is great above the heavens, and Your truth reaches to the skies. Be exalted, O God, above the heavens, and Your glory above all the earth. (Psalm 108:1–5 NASB)

Consider for a moment the mother of Christ. Recall how as a teenager, an angel came and told her she would give birth to the Savior of the world. After her questions were answered, she responded: “Behold, the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38 NASB). Think of what Mary’s life was like as Jesus’ mother. Today, walk with her to the cross and see her son being crucified.

Read

Woman, behold, your son! (John 19:26 NASB)

The Jerusalem sky grows darker by the minute, though no clouds can be seen. Those who remain at Golgotha are beginning to feel the weight of the air on their skin. A sense of inexplicable dread settles on the crucifixion crowd. The mockers of a moment ago now find themselves wishing for a speedy end to the day’s events.

With eyes squeezed shut, Jesus now pants in short, sharp breaths. His lungs feel as if they are exploding in His chest. How easy it would be to give in, to let Himself be strangled by the air He can’t exhale. But it is not yet time.

He pushes down on His feet. Trying to hold Himself up, he spews out breath and gasps for air. There is no relief now to the cramping in His legs, yet He continues to push down. Opening His eyes He scans the hill, taking in face after face until His gaze settles on the small group of women nearby.

He recognizes his two aunts, and Mary of Magdala, whose devotion to Him has been such pure joy in these last months. But all who are watching the eyes of the condemned can see that the woman who captivates His heart is the one who leans against His follower named John. Overcome with emotion, Jesus tries to smile at His mother.

What does He feel when His gaze meets that of the woman who bore Him in her own body? Does His heart break at the sorrow He inflicts on her? Does He remember the times He tried to prepare her for this? How as a child in the temple, He told her He had to be about His Father’s business? Or the day He gently rebuked her, saying His family were those who chose to follow Him, and not those related by blood?

Holding Himself up by the force of sheer will, He watches the small group draw closer to the cross. His mother cries quietly as she looks up at her beloved son. It is almost too much to bear.

Woman, behold, your son!

Disturbed by the distress in His voice Mary stretches out her hand as if longing to caress His face. Racking sobs shake her insides, but she holds her head high. She will not take her eyes from her son’s face, though her heart tears in two. John tightens his grip around her shoulder, wishing he could do something, feeling powerless.

“Behold, your mother!” Jesus speaks directly to His brave young disciple. Then without warning, His legs collapse and He drops. John and Mary keep staring, hoping for another word. Jesus tries to encourage them with a nod, but pain contorts His face into an absurd grimace. He closes His eyes.

John gently turns the mother of Christ from the cross, intent on following his Master’s final instructions. What more can he do for this One who loved him so in life? Moving back a few feet, the grieving group bow their heads as if in prayer.

Every now and then Mary looks up, hoping for some sign of movement from her child who hovers near death. How she must abhor the burden she bears in these final hours. The shame of illegitimacy brought her firstborn son into the world, and now the shame of crucifixion will take Him from it.

“Be it done unto me according to your word,” Mary once said to the angel who illuminated her life with God’s wondrous plan. Since Jesus’ inglorious birth in a manger she has not wavered in her commitment, but this time the anguish of letting go must be beyond description.

Darkness descends on Golgotha, and demons begin their premature celebration of the Redeemer’s defeat. The Son of Man has given up, it seems, death’s grip closing in on Him like a vise. But the battle isn’t over yet. Though the prince of darkness may wield his victory flag in glee, the Lord of the universe has not yet finished the fight.

Respond

Wait quietly upon the Lord as you ponder this scene at Calvary. Consider the intense emotions of Jesus as He says good-bye to His earthly mother. Reflect on her unique pain—both as a mother seeing her son suffer so, and as God’s chosen vessel, knowing her task is completed in such a way. Thank God for her presence at the cross, and for that of John—the one disciple who stayed and took no thought for his own life.

Consider Mary’s words: “Be it done to me according to your word.” As you reflect on the cross of Christ, are you able to offer yourself this willingly? Write a prayer expressing your thoughts in this moment at Calvary.

A Prayer

My precious Lord, give me the courage to pray as Your own mother did, “Be it done to me according to Your word.” And when I waver, let me remember that though surrender to Your will may cost me a thousand deaths, nothing I suffer can compare with the agony You faced on Golgotha’s hill. Oh, that I might join You there, learning of You and loving You. Let me die to gain Your glory and live to bring You pleasure. Let it be, O God, let it be.

Reprinted by permission. Contemplating the Cross: a Forty Day Pilgrimage of Prayer, Tricia McCary Rhodes, 2004, Thomas Nelson, Inc., Nashville, Tennessee. All rights reserved. Copying or using this material without written permission from the publisher is strictly prohibited and in direct violation of copyright law.

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Copyright © 2004 Tricia McCary Rhodes