Most people will know who He is, but not many know Him as Him. But there were twelve people who He went and talked to, told them He would give them a personality makeover. They didn't back away, they didn't hesitate, they followed- because with this man, something was different. They followed willingly. For three years; three really fast year years. And during that time they grew closer to Him, got to know Him, they obeyed Him, they served Him. It wasn't a business relationship or an acquaintanceship. It was a friendship that grew incredibly strong.
The twelve men didn't get along all the time, but they were brothers through this one man, and they shared all the fire between themselves and Him. They all grew to be best friends to this stranger who had walked into their lives and slightly re-worded their job titles; they went from 'fishermen' to 'fishers of men' He altered their occupations, but changed their hearts. Then one day, this man, their best friend, confidant, brother, turns around to them and starts sharing some creepy prophecies. Then He tells them He's soon to die.
Your best friend turns around to you and tells you He's going to die soon. What? The guy you've been doing everything for, hanging onto His every word, learning from Him and letting Him know the parts you that you didn't even realize existed- He starts washing your feet. What? The world's going crazy, being turned inside-out; people laying palm leaves down for your mate who's riding a donkey. A donkey with a cross down his back. What's going on then, when a few days later, armed guards come in and cart Him away? He's commit no sin in His life- never even told a white lie- and is rules completely innocent by the most important, prestigious judge of the time. Yet He's still given the worst death sentence available. What happened? When did the world go mad?
He's hanging there, pinned down to a tree like a fly on a wood board. It isn't just any tree though. It's two pieces of wood. A stake and a cross bar. They look like an old tattered cross made of wood. He has cloth covering Him slightly, but no clothes on. A crown of thorns is put on Him and He's mocked. This is your best friend who has never done a thing wrong. What are you doing? How are you feeling? You can't do a thing to save Him and you know He's going to die.
He has ropes binding his wrists to the splintery wood, cutting into his skin, nails through both of his palms. You can feel his agony as he hangs there. Then he cries out for a moment: "Eloi! Eloi! Lema sabachthani?" Blood and sweat dripping down his forehead and he's asking God why he's deserted him. They're poking a stick at him, making him drink. They're shouting and yelling abuse, spitting at him, hanging a sign above his head. This is the God of the universe, the star breather; strength renewer; the one you can come to with nothing left and be given everything. He heals by His word and we fall at His feet, our hearts cannot begin to grasp the concept of how tiny we are in the universe and how great a place He has for us in His heart, and He's hanging there on a cross, suffering for things He's not done. He's innocent; He's God. And He's dying.
What are you doing? You're watching him, distraught, not knowing what to do, where to turn, your whole world has just imploded in on you and your best friend's just hanging there, running out of strength, running out of breath. You can see him, feel him, but any second now, any second now, all these people are going to see how wrong they are. "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Some of His last words are just pure compassion. Then with the last strength he has, your friend, your king, your God, cries out a loud and long sound which fills your ears, your mind, your heart; you can't think and you can't breath, it's drowning you and you know something's about to happen. You look up, His head is down.
He's dead.
The curtain in the temple, the one made out of the finest cloth, the one piece of fabric, the only thing people can see concealing their secrets, the strongest thing in the temple... it tears into two pieces. Right as He screamed, it split straight down the center. It's mid afternoon but the sky is black; the sun covered in a cloud as dark as the final hour.
So what have you done in three years? You've changed people's lives, seen Him heal a dying child and raise a dead one. You were with this amazing man when he's eaten with prostitutes and beggars. You helped Him cast out demons. You've witnessed miracles. You've preformed miracles. But only with this man. Never without.
What do you do now? He's gone. Dead. That's it, it's over. It is finished.You hide. You and ten other men. The one who betrayed has killed himself, knowing he's done something awful. But what he did was crucial, as it led to the greatest, most highly documented moment in history.
Three days of hiding, you wake up to hear the man's mother and her friends banging on your door telling you that He isn't dead. But you watched Him die. You heard Him cry out, you felt the pain, the exhaustion. For a moment you had been filled with Him, His sound, His soul. But He's dead and you know it. Then a while later, He shows up. He. Him.Your best friend. You see His hands, you see His feet and you see where the spear went into His side to test if this man was truly dead. And he was. He was dead; He died. But now He's here! Here is your best friend, alive! He has risen. He died, but He rose again!
And now,
Jesus is alive.
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