MARY’S JOURNEY By Kathy Boecher©
The memories of yesterday were more than any one human being could bear. Her firstborn Son, subjected to the execution of Roman justice – to the humiliation of this horrible torture – to rejection by His followers and finally death.
She watched as His body writhed with pain and droplets of blood escaped his wounds. She listened as He spoke His final words – struggling for breath under the burden of His own body. She responded with tears as Jesus told His disciple, John to take care of her. She watched in disbelief as the soldiers wagered over his robe. She trembled with the others as the earth began to shake and the clouds burst forth with tears from God. She died inside when He took His final breath and committed Himself into His Father’s hands in death.
It was over. The tears wouldn’t stop that next day. Grief takes time, but she was so confused. She couldn’t understand any of it. This child, conceived by God, carried in her womb for nine months, still so young – why? Why did He have to die in this way? He wasn’t a criminal and yet He’d been treated as one. Why would God allow such a thing? This was His Son! She struggled with these thoughts, but then remembered that this was the way it had to be. The words of the prophet Isaiah –
“For he grew up before him like a young plant,and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” Isaiah 53:2-3
Those words must’ve resonated with her as she saw Joseph of Arimathea carry her Son’s body to be buried in his own personal tomb. This rich man allowed her Son this final gift, but it wouldn’t bring Him back. They would then prepare His body and lay Him in a cold, dark tomb.
She could barely move from the sorrow she felt. Her tears continued. Her boy was dead.