What will I do with Jesus? I will love Him!
I come here to the Garden often, but never without feeling I am on holy ground. I know some people think I'm foolish; I've been told, "Jesus is no longer in the Garden, you're wasting your time." They don't understand. I find my visits to this quiet, shaded haven refreshing and renewing. As Abraham and Jacob returned to Beth-el and found there a renewing of their covenants with God, so coming here provides a renewing of my spirit.
Jesus is my Lord and my Savior, my husband and my brother--but, mostly, Jesus is my friend. In fact, Jesus was my first friend. Shortly before I met Him, I had decided my life was worthless--less than worthless--and I would end it. Everyone I knew, everything I touched, turned to ashes. I lived in torment. Voices screamed in my head by day, and demons danced through my dreams when finally I slept. I was trapped. I knew so well the ugly face of sin with its bitterness, hatred and despair. Oh, how I wanted to die!
And then Jesus came. Not only, in my vision, was He strong and handsome, taller than King Saul must have been, a true seed of King David, but He was the first man I'd ever seen who wasn't afraid to be tender. When He held babies in his arms or touched people with His calloused carpenter hands, He was gentle as a summer breeze.
At first I merely watched from the midst of the crowds. I didn't trust men...any man. I agreed with the ancient observation that "the thoughts of a man's heart are only evil continually" and I determined not to be deceived by another one.
Occasionally, Jesus looked at me, and I knew He could see right into my soul. It frightened me, but I could never resist Him or shift my gaze. And, what amazed me even more, His eyes carried no condemnation. I sensed only that HE hurt because I did.
Early one morning, after another tormented night, I was sitting on a rock overlooking the lake. I heard a sound on the shore behind me. I think I knew who it was even before I turned. My heart began beating so hard it drowned out the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the crying of the gulls. I wanted to run--but my legs wouldn't move. All He said was "Mary" and He touched my shoulder, and I crumpled at His feet in the sand and cried. All the agony of my life poured out in those tears. I cried 'til there was nothing left. And all that time, Jesus said nothing, did nothing. Just waited. Then He lifted me to my feet, cupped my face in His hands, and looked into my eyes.
I sensed rebuke, but I knew He wasn't rebuking me. And, one by one, my tormentors left. I don't know how to explain it, but I saw them leave, like shadows passing across the sun.
And I was free! It was wonderful! The wall around my heart shattered, and for the first time, I loved.
During the next two years I followed Him as often as I could, and through His teaching and presence, my heart over-flowed with joy.
================
I thought I'd die when He did. I stayed near the cross til the soldiers made me leave. I don't remember much, except pain. Pain for His mother and John, for all the disciples and Jerusalem--but, to be honest, mostly pain for me.
Those next days were a blur. I couldn't understand why He died just when I was beginning to live.
And then Sunday came.
I still smile when I remember that Resurrection Day. Of course, at the time I was terrified, but in looking back I can't believe I didn't know who He was. At the very least I should have recognized the love and acceptance in His eyes...that never changes.
So, I come here. To rest, and to remember. Pain and suffering surround us. People are dying--on the INside. Not because they want to, but, like me, they simply don't know how to live.
I still hurt, for myself and for others. I still question. But I can never doubt. No matter how black the night in my soul or looming the problems, or large the ghosts that confront me, I know that I know that I know God loves ME. And that one shaft of light will always cut through the darkness that occasionally surrounds me--and comfort me and bring me out on the other side of my pain, of my sorrow--to wholeness, to joy and to life.
==================================
Even though this was a monologue for the Lenten season, it covers the Lord in Mary's life before, during, and after the crucifixion, so I thought it would be best to post it afterwards when the rejoicing became truly "real". -- I wrote this script, but I also performed it. I have been "Mary Magdalene" a number of times over the years at churches -- and it doesn't make any difference how much I've aged. She's still herself.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
HE IS GOD'S HOLY WORD
The exultant cry has spread across the land -
The exultant cry has flown from man to man -
--------"Jesus is Lord
Ever Adored
God's Holy Word"----
He came into our world to
Still the tempest
Calm the storm --
He walked upon the earth to
Save the sinner
Heal the torn --
To share with us the victory
The laughter
The sorrow---
To free us from the bondage
Of sin
The exultant cry has flown from man to man -
--------"Jesus is Lord
Ever Adored
God's Holy Word"----
He came into our world to
Still the tempest
Calm the storm --
He walked upon the earth to
Save the sinner
Heal the torn --
To share with us the victory
The laughter
The sorrow---
To free us from the bondage
Of sin
Fear of Tomorrow
Come join the cry that's growing in our land-
Come shout the cry to each and every man -
--------"Jesus is Lord
Ever Adored
God's Love Outpoured"----
Friday, April 6, 2012
THE PHARISEE
What would I do with Jesus?
That's a laugh! Let me tell you what I'd do with that blaspheming rabble-rouser. I'd stone him. With pleasure.
Ever since he emerged on the scene from that God forsaken area up north, he's been nothing but trouble. We can't maintain order. We had everything running smoothly here. Sure, we despise the Romans and there's always a plot fermenting to overthrow them. The fools who do that plotting are usually discovered and crucified, but, then what can they expect? They know the risks.
The Romans are difficult to live with at best, but this man, Jesus, has made it worse. He has divided the populace with his talk of a new kingdom...a heavenly kingdom. Who does he think he is? He SAYS he's the son of God. HUH!!
Would the son of God--our Holy God--allow prostitutes to touch Him? Allow the beggars and lepers with their filth and running sores, to handle Him? If he was the son of God, he'd know the Law and what it says about the unclean and impure.
He's an opportunist. And he's crazy, power-hungry. I don't know what his goal is; sometimes I wonder if he has one. But it obviously is only to further his own ends and increase his own following. The end can only be destruction. For all of them.
And for that I wait--impatiently. It will be a great day for this nation when that man is dead. The sooner this man Jesus is removed, the sooner we can regain our control. And the sooner we can get these Roman eyes diverted from us and back on their own problems.
So, again, as asked, what would I do with Jesus? I would kill him. NOW!
===================
Monologue #5.
That's a laugh! Let me tell you what I'd do with that blaspheming rabble-rouser. I'd stone him. With pleasure.
Ever since he emerged on the scene from that God forsaken area up north, he's been nothing but trouble. We can't maintain order. We had everything running smoothly here. Sure, we despise the Romans and there's always a plot fermenting to overthrow them. The fools who do that plotting are usually discovered and crucified, but, then what can they expect? They know the risks.
The Romans are difficult to live with at best, but this man, Jesus, has made it worse. He has divided the populace with his talk of a new kingdom...a heavenly kingdom. Who does he think he is? He SAYS he's the son of God. HUH!!
Would the son of God--our Holy God--allow prostitutes to touch Him? Allow the beggars and lepers with their filth and running sores, to handle Him? If he was the son of God, he'd know the Law and what it says about the unclean and impure.
He's an opportunist. And he's crazy, power-hungry. I don't know what his goal is; sometimes I wonder if he has one. But it obviously is only to further his own ends and increase his own following. The end can only be destruction. For all of them.
And for that I wait--impatiently. It will be a great day for this nation when that man is dead. The sooner this man Jesus is removed, the sooner we can regain our control. And the sooner we can get these Roman eyes diverted from us and back on their own problems.
So, again, as asked, what would I do with Jesus? I would kill him. NOW!
===================
Monologue #5.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
JAIRUS
What would I do with Jesus?
I would fall to my knees and worship Him – forever.
What else could I do? He gave me life that, somewhere between tradition and duties and rituals, I had lost.
I had been a leader in my synagogue for many years when news of this Jesus, this carpenter's son, had come to me.
When I first heard of His claims, I thought Him to be a blasphemer. A prophet? From Nazareth? How could anything good come from that God-forsaken state?
And He claimed not only to be a prophet, but the very Son of God! The Messiah! Oh, how my body raged with anger!
Surely, if God had a son He would choose one of His priests. Someone of authority. But a carpenter's son? The thought seemed too preposterous to even dwell upon.
Then came the day that my Anna had taken ill. At first I thought it nothing more than a cold. I was sure in a few days she would be well and we could go on with our lives.
But she didn't improve; she grew worse. Her fever would rise and fall sporadically. I hired the best physicians in the land. I received every available diagnosis.
I should tell you here that my Anna was very special to me. You see, my wife and I had tried for many years to have children, but it seemed that God had closed the womb of my dear one.
After many years of prayer and offerings, God had opened her womb and she conceived! I had prepared myself for a son, but was so overjoyed to have a child, any child, that Anna immediately became my whole life.
My whole world centered around Anna. My thoughts were continually on my sweet miracle child.
So when the physicians told me there was nothing more they could do, I cried out to God in anger. Why?! Why?! Why give me so precious a gift just to destroy it? Take anything else I have, but not my Anna! But God was not listening to me. I was helpless and all the wealth and high position I had acquired could do nothing to save her.
Anna was nearing death. I could not bear to be in the same room. My wife simply sat beside her and stared into nothing. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, this Jesus came to mind -- and the stories I'd heard of Him healing lepers, giving sight to the blind, opening deaf ears by His word.
I finally fought off my logic and intellectual pride and left the room to find this Jesus. In my head I knew what I was thinking was insane, but in my heart, all I knew was that my Anna was dying. Anna was dying and I had to do something.
It wasn't hard to find Jesus. I just looked for a large crowd and worked my way through.
I really don't know where I got my strength. It had been days since I had eaten or slept, but as I saw the massive crowd, I was determined to see Jesus and I pushed and shoved, sometimes crawled, until I stood before Him. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know what to say. As we exchanged glances, in that moment, I knew He knew everything within.
I fell on my face crying, sobbing. All that came out was, "Please...heal... Anna!" Then He helped me up and asked me where she was. As we walked, my newly gained strength immediately left when I saw my servant rushing towards us.
The look on his face told me before he even spoke the words. "Your daughter is dead; we have no need for the prophet now."
Just as anger began to well up inside me again, Jesus touched me gently on the shoulder and said, "Jairus, only believe."
The anger was replaced with confusion. Only believe? Believe what? Anna was dead! What could He--this Nazarene--do now?
As we neared the house, we heard the mourners singing. They were playing instruments as they wailed their hypocritical songs of remorse. They reminded me of an actor's troop putting on a play--a play performed many times before--but this time at the expense of my Anna.
I was about to call my servants to have them all thrown out, when Jesus spoke for the first time since we had left the crowds. "Why do you weep?" He asked. "This child is not dead...she only sleeps."
Naturally, they began to laugh at him. I don't know if it was because of Anna or pity for Jesus, but when they began mocking him I was filled with fury.
He rebuked them with such authority, it was as if God Himself were speaking. They stopped jeering, and arguing. All they did was grab their instruments and run.
After they left, Jesus asked where Anna was laying. We took Him to her room. He knelt down beside her and took hold of her hand. Her pale blue-gray skin instantly was changed to a healthy pink. Then He spoke very soothingly; very softly. "My precious Little Lamb, arise."
And her eyes opened! She smiled. She was alive!! I was ecstatic! I wanted to dance! I wanted to shout! Tears rolled down my face. And you should have seen my wife! She was beside herself with joy...
Then Jesus, right before leaving, turned and said, "Tell no man what happened here today."
Tell no man? How can I "tell no man?" My Anna was dead, and now she is alive...because of Jesus. And I will, I must, tell the world that Jesus, the carpenter's son from Nazareth, is the Son of the Living God who heals and who restores.
Yes, I will worship Jesus. Forever.
What will you do?
======================
Monologue #4. My friend, Jonah, sang the Don Francisco song, "Gotta Tell Somebody", the story of Jairus, when the monologue had been finished. It really touched hearts and caught truly spiritual attention. What a joy!
I would fall to my knees and worship Him – forever.
What else could I do? He gave me life that, somewhere between tradition and duties and rituals, I had lost.
I had been a leader in my synagogue for many years when news of this Jesus, this carpenter's son, had come to me.
When I first heard of His claims, I thought Him to be a blasphemer. A prophet? From Nazareth? How could anything good come from that God-forsaken state?
And He claimed not only to be a prophet, but the very Son of God! The Messiah! Oh, how my body raged with anger!
Surely, if God had a son He would choose one of His priests. Someone of authority. But a carpenter's son? The thought seemed too preposterous to even dwell upon.
Then came the day that my Anna had taken ill. At first I thought it nothing more than a cold. I was sure in a few days she would be well and we could go on with our lives.
But she didn't improve; she grew worse. Her fever would rise and fall sporadically. I hired the best physicians in the land. I received every available diagnosis.
I should tell you here that my Anna was very special to me. You see, my wife and I had tried for many years to have children, but it seemed that God had closed the womb of my dear one.
After many years of prayer and offerings, God had opened her womb and she conceived! I had prepared myself for a son, but was so overjoyed to have a child, any child, that Anna immediately became my whole life.
My whole world centered around Anna. My thoughts were continually on my sweet miracle child.
So when the physicians told me there was nothing more they could do, I cried out to God in anger. Why?! Why?! Why give me so precious a gift just to destroy it? Take anything else I have, but not my Anna! But God was not listening to me. I was helpless and all the wealth and high position I had acquired could do nothing to save her.
Anna was nearing death. I could not bear to be in the same room. My wife simply sat beside her and stared into nothing. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, this Jesus came to mind -- and the stories I'd heard of Him healing lepers, giving sight to the blind, opening deaf ears by His word.
I finally fought off my logic and intellectual pride and left the room to find this Jesus. In my head I knew what I was thinking was insane, but in my heart, all I knew was that my Anna was dying. Anna was dying and I had to do something.
It wasn't hard to find Jesus. I just looked for a large crowd and worked my way through.
I really don't know where I got my strength. It had been days since I had eaten or slept, but as I saw the massive crowd, I was determined to see Jesus and I pushed and shoved, sometimes crawled, until I stood before Him. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know what to say. As we exchanged glances, in that moment, I knew He knew everything within.
I fell on my face crying, sobbing. All that came out was, "Please...heal... Anna!" Then He helped me up and asked me where she was. As we walked, my newly gained strength immediately left when I saw my servant rushing towards us.
The look on his face told me before he even spoke the words. "Your daughter is dead; we have no need for the prophet now."
Just as anger began to well up inside me again, Jesus touched me gently on the shoulder and said, "Jairus, only believe."
The anger was replaced with confusion. Only believe? Believe what? Anna was dead! What could He--this Nazarene--do now?
As we neared the house, we heard the mourners singing. They were playing instruments as they wailed their hypocritical songs of remorse. They reminded me of an actor's troop putting on a play--a play performed many times before--but this time at the expense of my Anna.
I was about to call my servants to have them all thrown out, when Jesus spoke for the first time since we had left the crowds. "Why do you weep?" He asked. "This child is not dead...she only sleeps."
Naturally, they began to laugh at him. I don't know if it was because of Anna or pity for Jesus, but when they began mocking him I was filled with fury.
He rebuked them with such authority, it was as if God Himself were speaking. They stopped jeering, and arguing. All they did was grab their instruments and run.
After they left, Jesus asked where Anna was laying. We took Him to her room. He knelt down beside her and took hold of her hand. Her pale blue-gray skin instantly was changed to a healthy pink. Then He spoke very soothingly; very softly. "My precious Little Lamb, arise."
And her eyes opened! She smiled. She was alive!! I was ecstatic! I wanted to dance! I wanted to shout! Tears rolled down my face. And you should have seen my wife! She was beside herself with joy...
Then Jesus, right before leaving, turned and said, "Tell no man what happened here today."
Tell no man? How can I "tell no man?" My Anna was dead, and now she is alive...because of Jesus. And I will, I must, tell the world that Jesus, the carpenter's son from Nazareth, is the Son of the Living God who heals and who restores.
Yes, I will worship Jesus. Forever.
What will you do?
======================
Monologue #4. My friend, Jonah, sang the Don Francisco song, "Gotta Tell Somebody", the story of Jairus, when the monologue had been finished. It really touched hearts and caught truly spiritual attention. What a joy!
THE WOMAN AT THE WELL
What will I do with Jesus? I'll praise Him today and forever.
I met Jesus one hot summer afternoon. He came through our town of Sychar at mid-day.
When I first saw Him, sitting by our village well, He was alone, although I had heard people mumbling about Him and that He brought a group of His followers with Him. I watched from a distance and debated whether I should draw my water then, or wait until evening and draw with the other women. I was torn between avoiding HIM -- obviously a Jew of authority -- and avoiding the women who were openly antagonistic towards me. Either way, I didn't want to be harassed. I finally decided He was the safer of the two choices.
As I walked towards Him, my apprehension left. He had the gentlest, most compassionate eyes I had ever seen -- and there was the slightest hint of a twinkle in them when He looked at me. I was immediately comfortable with Him. Still, I was astounded when He asked me for water.
I had been inundated with laws -- both social and religious -- and it didn't even occur to me that a Jewish man would speak to me. One of the debates of the time -- one over which women became alternately furious and ruefully resigned -- was whether women had a soul; the so-called Masters spent hours at a time disputing the question, so it was especially surprising to me that a man of learning would speak to ANY woman publicly. AND the fact that I was a Samaritan would automatically have placed me outside the social range of a Jew.
During our ensuing discussion, which I'm sure all of you know, I sensed a freedom I'd never seen in any other person. And I wanted it...that life-giving water He had.
I was amazed -- but not particularly condemned -- by His revelation of my personal life. Admittedly, I had had several husbands, and, even in my day, that was unacceptable. It really was a matter of circumstance, though. A widow, divorcee, or single woman of any kind in our society was in a poor position. She had little physical protection, little possibility of financial freedom, very little of ANYthing. If by chance she had a close family with whom she could stay, she could lead a fairly fulfilling life. That, however, was not one of my options. After my father died when I was twelve years old, within a year later my step-mother forced me to leave home.
The first person who took me into his home and was willing to marry me was an older Roman who had once been a dignitary, but had fallen into political disfavor. He was kind to me, but all that mattered to the rest of the world was his nationality. So he was ignored, and I was shunned.
When he died, I, of course, was displaced. Laws didn't protect me and I had to find a home when and where I could. After marriages, ranging in quality from mediocre to absolutely terrible, I decided to forgo that particular formality so I would be freer to leave when conditions dictated.
I moved to Sychar hoping to find freedom from my past, but it followed and haunted me...and, once again, I was an out-cast, alienated from those around me.
Jesus' words made me hungry for more; more of that wonderful freedom I saw in Him. I couldn't contain myself and I ran throughout the village heralding His coming.
At first the others went to see Him to satisfy their curiosity. But those eyes, that voice, compelled them to stay. And as they stayed, as they sat at His feet to learn, they, too, experienced freedom.
Everything changed in the village after that. I was accepted by those with whom I now had a common spirit. Together they built a small house for me -- and I live there, alone. I no longer need the protection I sought in man; I am protected by my Lord. In my heart, God promised to care for me as He did the widow of Zaraphath, and He has been faithful to His word.
So, I will praise Jesus...for freeing me from the chains of society's law, religious law, poverty, and those other dark forces that sought to control my life and the lives of those around me. I was an outcast -- from both Jewish and Samaritan society -- and I now minister, and pour forth His love, to others who are the outcasts, wherever and whenever I see them. I can do no less for this Man, this God, who cared for me and brought me freedom.
==============
This is Lenten monologue #3. The woman who performed this truly understood. She was divorced, and, as I recall, had been rejected by Christians who said the divorce was unacceptable. The "writer" was facing this, also, at that time. Consequently, it might sound a bit intense, but that's because it was. I had been rejected by the ladies at a former church when my divorce had occurred. However, unknown to me, God had placed me in this different church for this Lenten service writing to give me His acceptance and His very special "gift".
I met Jesus one hot summer afternoon. He came through our town of Sychar at mid-day.
When I first saw Him, sitting by our village well, He was alone, although I had heard people mumbling about Him and that He brought a group of His followers with Him. I watched from a distance and debated whether I should draw my water then, or wait until evening and draw with the other women. I was torn between avoiding HIM -- obviously a Jew of authority -- and avoiding the women who were openly antagonistic towards me. Either way, I didn't want to be harassed. I finally decided He was the safer of the two choices.
As I walked towards Him, my apprehension left. He had the gentlest, most compassionate eyes I had ever seen -- and there was the slightest hint of a twinkle in them when He looked at me. I was immediately comfortable with Him. Still, I was astounded when He asked me for water.
I had been inundated with laws -- both social and religious -- and it didn't even occur to me that a Jewish man would speak to me. One of the debates of the time -- one over which women became alternately furious and ruefully resigned -- was whether women had a soul; the so-called Masters spent hours at a time disputing the question, so it was especially surprising to me that a man of learning would speak to ANY woman publicly. AND the fact that I was a Samaritan would automatically have placed me outside the social range of a Jew.
During our ensuing discussion, which I'm sure all of you know, I sensed a freedom I'd never seen in any other person. And I wanted it...that life-giving water He had.
I was amazed -- but not particularly condemned -- by His revelation of my personal life. Admittedly, I had had several husbands, and, even in my day, that was unacceptable. It really was a matter of circumstance, though. A widow, divorcee, or single woman of any kind in our society was in a poor position. She had little physical protection, little possibility of financial freedom, very little of ANYthing. If by chance she had a close family with whom she could stay, she could lead a fairly fulfilling life. That, however, was not one of my options. After my father died when I was twelve years old, within a year later my step-mother forced me to leave home.
The first person who took me into his home and was willing to marry me was an older Roman who had once been a dignitary, but had fallen into political disfavor. He was kind to me, but all that mattered to the rest of the world was his nationality. So he was ignored, and I was shunned.
When he died, I, of course, was displaced. Laws didn't protect me and I had to find a home when and where I could. After marriages, ranging in quality from mediocre to absolutely terrible, I decided to forgo that particular formality so I would be freer to leave when conditions dictated.
I moved to Sychar hoping to find freedom from my past, but it followed and haunted me...and, once again, I was an out-cast, alienated from those around me.
Jesus' words made me hungry for more; more of that wonderful freedom I saw in Him. I couldn't contain myself and I ran throughout the village heralding His coming.
At first the others went to see Him to satisfy their curiosity. But those eyes, that voice, compelled them to stay. And as they stayed, as they sat at His feet to learn, they, too, experienced freedom.
Everything changed in the village after that. I was accepted by those with whom I now had a common spirit. Together they built a small house for me -- and I live there, alone. I no longer need the protection I sought in man; I am protected by my Lord. In my heart, God promised to care for me as He did the widow of Zaraphath, and He has been faithful to His word.
So, I will praise Jesus...for freeing me from the chains of society's law, religious law, poverty, and those other dark forces that sought to control my life and the lives of those around me. I was an outcast -- from both Jewish and Samaritan society -- and I now minister, and pour forth His love, to others who are the outcasts, wherever and whenever I see them. I can do no less for this Man, this God, who cared for me and brought me freedom.
==============
This is Lenten monologue #3. The woman who performed this truly understood. She was divorced, and, as I recall, had been rejected by Christians who said the divorce was unacceptable. The "writer" was facing this, also, at that time. Consequently, it might sound a bit intense, but that's because it was. I had been rejected by the ladies at a former church when my divorce had occurred. However, unknown to me, God had placed me in this different church for this Lenten service writing to give me His acceptance and His very special "gift".
Monday, April 2, 2012
JAMES, THE BROTHER OF JESUS
What would I do with Jesus?
I'll tell you what almost did with Him. Nothing.
He was my older brother. When we were children I looked up to Him. He could climb trees higher than anyone else I knew. And when I fought with the older boys in the village, He always came to my rescue. He never fought--somehow He never had to--but I knew we'd won.
After our father died, Jesus quietly stepped into the role of protector and provider. I was grateful at first...it made life easier for the rest of us.
But, gradually, my attitude towards Him changed. At the time when He should have bargained for a wife who would have added to our family's comfort, He became ingrown and thoughtful. He seldom spoke. And, often, I caught Him gazing into the skies so intently I knew He could see something I couldn't. And that's when I began to believe He was mad...not violently mad, but as Festus accused Paul, mad from "much learning."
I tried to warn mother, but she simply chose not to see it. All she would say was, "Be patient, James. Some day you'll understand." And, of course, the day came when even she misunderstood.
One day Jesus closed the carpenter shop, kissed mother, and walked away. With not a word to any of us.
I was angry. Not only angry, but scared and felt helpless. Suddenly, I was the head of the house--and I wasn't prepared. Bitterness and resentment began to replace the pity and vague discomfort I'd previously felt.
For those 3 years before His death, I stayed away from Him as much as possible. In fact, He was such an embarrassment to me and the rest of the family, we disclaimed any knowledge of Him or His activities. I lived in dread that the Jewish or Roman leaders would threaten or imprison us to put pressure on Him.
It was impossible to avoid hearing about some of His actions. I was convinced He was insane when they told me how He cleared the temple. I knew then He was doomed. The temple guard and Jewish leaders were furious.
I went with Mother to that last Passover. She never said, but I'm sure she knew it would be her time to feel the "sword pierce her soul." She was ashen and weak.
When the time came, I accompanied her to the crucifixion. I chose to blend in with the crowd, while she pressed as close to the cross as they would allow. But I watched--and I listened.
I was stunned. Not only was He convinced of His mission BEFORE the crucifixion, He did not change His belief while under the most extreme torture.
When He forgave, I wept.
When He gave John to Mother and Mother to John, I bowed my head in shame.
When He died, I felt myself being swallowed by darkness.
A few days later, I heard He had risen. I didn't know what to believe about this rumor. The people who seemed most convinced were also the ones who had been closest to Him in His mission. I was tempted to pass it off as a delusion or mass hysteria.
Then He came to me. And with Him came light for my soul. Knowing what my heart needed most, He forgave me. He smiled in the old understanding way He had, just like my older brother --not like God, although I was aware by then that He was, in fact, my Lord.
God's plan--all the pieces that never quite fit together--suddenly became clear to me. He gave me a choice--although I've never really seen that there WAS a choice; to my heart the only choice is to serve Him.
He served me in my family--and in that greater Family of Man.
So, what will I do with Jesus? I will always do what He has called me to do. As He was willing to spend and be spent, so I, too, give my life in service to Him and His children.
==========
2nd of 6 Lenten monologues, written in 1985.
==========================
James had quite a lot of afterthought. Visit Peter Pollock's Blog Carnival.
I'll tell you what almost did with Him. Nothing.
He was my older brother. When we were children I looked up to Him. He could climb trees higher than anyone else I knew. And when I fought with the older boys in the village, He always came to my rescue. He never fought--somehow He never had to--but I knew we'd won.
After our father died, Jesus quietly stepped into the role of protector and provider. I was grateful at first...it made life easier for the rest of us.
But, gradually, my attitude towards Him changed. At the time when He should have bargained for a wife who would have added to our family's comfort, He became ingrown and thoughtful. He seldom spoke. And, often, I caught Him gazing into the skies so intently I knew He could see something I couldn't. And that's when I began to believe He was mad...not violently mad, but as Festus accused Paul, mad from "much learning."
I tried to warn mother, but she simply chose not to see it. All she would say was, "Be patient, James. Some day you'll understand." And, of course, the day came when even she misunderstood.
One day Jesus closed the carpenter shop, kissed mother, and walked away. With not a word to any of us.
I was angry. Not only angry, but scared and felt helpless. Suddenly, I was the head of the house--and I wasn't prepared. Bitterness and resentment began to replace the pity and vague discomfort I'd previously felt.
For those 3 years before His death, I stayed away from Him as much as possible. In fact, He was such an embarrassment to me and the rest of the family, we disclaimed any knowledge of Him or His activities. I lived in dread that the Jewish or Roman leaders would threaten or imprison us to put pressure on Him.
It was impossible to avoid hearing about some of His actions. I was convinced He was insane when they told me how He cleared the temple. I knew then He was doomed. The temple guard and Jewish leaders were furious.
I went with Mother to that last Passover. She never said, but I'm sure she knew it would be her time to feel the "sword pierce her soul." She was ashen and weak.
When the time came, I accompanied her to the crucifixion. I chose to blend in with the crowd, while she pressed as close to the cross as they would allow. But I watched--and I listened.
I was stunned. Not only was He convinced of His mission BEFORE the crucifixion, He did not change His belief while under the most extreme torture.
When He forgave, I wept.
When He gave John to Mother and Mother to John, I bowed my head in shame.
When He died, I felt myself being swallowed by darkness.
A few days later, I heard He had risen. I didn't know what to believe about this rumor. The people who seemed most convinced were also the ones who had been closest to Him in His mission. I was tempted to pass it off as a delusion or mass hysteria.
Then He came to me. And with Him came light for my soul. Knowing what my heart needed most, He forgave me. He smiled in the old understanding way He had, just like my older brother --not like God, although I was aware by then that He was, in fact, my Lord.
God's plan--all the pieces that never quite fit together--suddenly became clear to me. He gave me a choice--although I've never really seen that there WAS a choice; to my heart the only choice is to serve Him.
He served me in my family--and in that greater Family of Man.
So, what will I do with Jesus? I will always do what He has called me to do. As He was willing to spend and be spent, so I, too, give my life in service to Him and His children.
==========
2nd of 6 Lenten monologues, written in 1985.
==========================
James had quite a lot of afterthought. Visit Peter Pollock's Blog Carnival.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
JAMES, THE DISCIPLE
In 1985, I was asked to write a series of monologues during the Lenten weeks, and to choose and direct speakers, choose hymns that fit the stories, and speak in a sermonette style. I had never attended the church, but was asked by a long-time friend and did so. I wrote 6 scripts. A few days after the first service, this became my church... and miracles followed.
The overall Lenten question: "What Would I Do With Jesus?"
I decided to post them over the next few days before Resurrection Sunday... no photos, nothing fancy, maybe too much to read. But feel led to share them. Thought I should pop the explanation out for #1 so you would understand it's purpose and it's focus.
Thanks.
==============================================
What would I do with Jesus?
I'd do what I've already done: I'd follow Him.
It hasn't always been that way. In fact, if John the Baptist hadn't pointed Him out to me, told me He was the Lamb of God, and prodded me to follow Him, I wonder if I ever would have.
John was a man of power and boldness...frighteningly certain of his mission and his duties. I followed him as much from awe and fear as anything. I never understood him, but he was so compelling, had such an air of adventure, I couldn't seem to stay away.
Jesus was different. He really didn't stand out to me. He didn't attract any great amount of attention from anyone.
I was there when John baptized Jesus. And, to be honest, it embarrassed and confused me. John was always so rough, demanding--yet, with Jesus he became humble, a servant.
As I followed Jesus, though, I discovered, slowly, that He was every bit as compelling as John had been.
I made Him angry with me--several times. I could see the sorrow in His eyes as He reprimanded me. He didn't blaze against me as I might have expected. But He took a deep breath, shook His head, and became quiet. I always felt so foolish.
His responses and reactions were so unlike mine would have been--or those of anyone else I knew--that I was totally bewildered.
One day that changed, though, and I suddenly saw life through His eyes. He was sitting under a tree, praying. I hesitated disturbing Him, but was in such turmoil, I simply had to talk to Him. He heard me approach and looked up with a smile. Then He said, "James, my friend, what can I do for you?"
"Master," I said, "I've been hearing rumors. People are talking, laughing behind your back, saying you love Mary, and..." And I felt so foolish I couldn't even finish my sentence.
Jesus really surprised me then. He said, "But, James, I do love her, but...I love you and Andrew, Thaddeus and Joanna, and John...all of you are unique and precious to me."
He continued, "James, you must remember, most men have no understanding of the person of God, the part of God that allows, even impels Him, to enjoy what He has created. He never sees these friendships and love relationships as something sordid or sinful or inappropriate.
“There is nothing inappropriate about my love for you or your brother. We are a family with friendship so strong it is beyond the capacity of most men to understand. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, inappropriate about my love for Mary. Mary is my sister, my friend, my child. If my mission were simply a human mission, that relationship might be different. But my mission is for all men and to all men. No earthly relationship can stand in the way of what the Father has asked me to do.”
Then he said to me, "When ugly rumors and misstatements are made, who is the author of that ugliness? Not the Father. And, if not the Father, then who is?"
For once I knew an answer and I told Him. "Satan, the father of lies." He smiled and nodded. "That's right," He told me, and continued. "If he can discredit or manipulate or create dissension, he will. Remember in the story of the sheep and the shepherd I described Satan as one who steals, kills and destroys. People forget that Satan's scheme doesn't apply only in the physical realm. Part of his plan is to steal peace, joy, respect and courage. He comes to kill reputations and feelings of self-worth and to destroy families, friendships, loving relationships.
"So, James, don't let the rumors disturb you. People misunderstand because they WANT to misunderstand. They enjoy painting pictures of unrighteousness because it mirrors the unrighteousness of their hearts and helps them deaden the pangs of conscience."
He smiled again, as if to say, “I think that's about as much as you can grasp right now.” As I turned to leave, I saw He was already in the presence of His Father.
I'm a slow learner. I'm thankful He was a patient teacher. And I'll gratefully follow Him...forever.
The overall Lenten question: "What Would I Do With Jesus?"
I decided to post them over the next few days before Resurrection Sunday... no photos, nothing fancy, maybe too much to read. But feel led to share them. Thought I should pop the explanation out for #1 so you would understand it's purpose and it's focus.
Thanks.
==============================================
JAMES, THE DISCIPLE
What would I do with Jesus?
I'd do what I've already done: I'd follow Him.
It hasn't always been that way. In fact, if John the Baptist hadn't pointed Him out to me, told me He was the Lamb of God, and prodded me to follow Him, I wonder if I ever would have.
John was a man of power and boldness...frighteningly certain of his mission and his duties. I followed him as much from awe and fear as anything. I never understood him, but he was so compelling, had such an air of adventure, I couldn't seem to stay away.
Jesus was different. He really didn't stand out to me. He didn't attract any great amount of attention from anyone.
I was there when John baptized Jesus. And, to be honest, it embarrassed and confused me. John was always so rough, demanding--yet, with Jesus he became humble, a servant.
As I followed Jesus, though, I discovered, slowly, that He was every bit as compelling as John had been.
I made Him angry with me--several times. I could see the sorrow in His eyes as He reprimanded me. He didn't blaze against me as I might have expected. But He took a deep breath, shook His head, and became quiet. I always felt so foolish.
His responses and reactions were so unlike mine would have been--or those of anyone else I knew--that I was totally bewildered.
One day that changed, though, and I suddenly saw life through His eyes. He was sitting under a tree, praying. I hesitated disturbing Him, but was in such turmoil, I simply had to talk to Him. He heard me approach and looked up with a smile. Then He said, "James, my friend, what can I do for you?"
"Master," I said, "I've been hearing rumors. People are talking, laughing behind your back, saying you love Mary, and..." And I felt so foolish I couldn't even finish my sentence.
Jesus really surprised me then. He said, "But, James, I do love her, but...I love you and Andrew, Thaddeus and Joanna, and John...all of you are unique and precious to me."
He continued, "James, you must remember, most men have no understanding of the person of God, the part of God that allows, even impels Him, to enjoy what He has created. He never sees these friendships and love relationships as something sordid or sinful or inappropriate.
“There is nothing inappropriate about my love for you or your brother. We are a family with friendship so strong it is beyond the capacity of most men to understand. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, inappropriate about my love for Mary. Mary is my sister, my friend, my child. If my mission were simply a human mission, that relationship might be different. But my mission is for all men and to all men. No earthly relationship can stand in the way of what the Father has asked me to do.”
Then he said to me, "When ugly rumors and misstatements are made, who is the author of that ugliness? Not the Father. And, if not the Father, then who is?"
For once I knew an answer and I told Him. "Satan, the father of lies." He smiled and nodded. "That's right," He told me, and continued. "If he can discredit or manipulate or create dissension, he will. Remember in the story of the sheep and the shepherd I described Satan as one who steals, kills and destroys. People forget that Satan's scheme doesn't apply only in the physical realm. Part of his plan is to steal peace, joy, respect and courage. He comes to kill reputations and feelings of self-worth and to destroy families, friendships, loving relationships.
"So, James, don't let the rumors disturb you. People misunderstand because they WANT to misunderstand. They enjoy painting pictures of unrighteousness because it mirrors the unrighteousness of their hearts and helps them deaden the pangs of conscience."
He smiled again, as if to say, “I think that's about as much as you can grasp right now.” As I turned to leave, I saw He was already in the presence of His Father.
I'm a slow learner. I'm thankful He was a patient teacher. And I'll gratefully follow Him...forever.
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