Linda Buishas
How could they bear it? Were they there when Jesus was beaten until unrecognizable and His flesh so torn that His back was one bloody gash? How could they bear it? How could He? Did they follow Jesus along the way as He stumbled, fell, and rose again as He carried the instrument of His death? How could they bear to see Him struggle so? How could He endure it?
Would I have followed Him, weeping and wailing, as did the women He ministered to along the way? Would I have been with Him as He came to the top of the hill? Could I have listened as nails were pounded into His holy flesh?
As I consider the unspeakable torture that had already taken place, can there be a word for what John and the three Marys would witness next or how He would suffer? How could they bear it? Could I, would I, have borne it? But they did, because they never wanted to leave Him. Can I love Him like that? More than that; who am I that my Savior would love me that way? No matter who I am, the answer lies in who He is.
I once had a dream I was standing on a hill at twilight and saw three crosses where three men hung. When I approached the middle one, I saw it was my Lord. His beloved face covered in blood, He looked down at me, lowered His head, and died. I sobbed a body-wrenching, deep-down-to-the-core-of-me sob. Could this be what the words, “Sometimes it causes me to tremble,” mean? Even now it brings me to tears. When I awoke, I was overcome with an aching sorrow at seeing my Lord this way. I thanked God for giving me this intimate moment with Him; of such deep remorse for what sin had done and immeasurable gratitude for what He has done for me. As I recall that dream, I see that I was standing alone at the feet of my crucified Savior, and it struck me in a deeper, more profound way than ever before; as though I were the only one alive, He died for me. It is so humbling a thought that I can scarcely take it in.
Would I have stood at the foot of the cross? Would you have stood with me? Although I can only imagine, I need not wonder where I now stand. Will you stand with me before His empty grave, gazing at the stone that was rolled away? Will you stand with me in awe of what His perfect love has done, stand under the cleansing by His blood and the healing by His wounds?
For “The Lord is my rock, my fortress, my savior; my God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety.” (Psalm 18:2) Here is where I stand! Happy Easter!