On Remembering Passion Week
I need to cry my own full-throated “Hosanna’s,” free of illusions but awake to my naked needs.
I need to climb the hill, to look down over the city, and to weep for her lost innocence.
I need to feel desperation again; to feel it in the temple pilgrims who dared to hope He might be real, and He might be good.
I need to see Him heal the broken—on His own terms, and out of order.
I need to listen to His stories. Vibrant, full of mystery scandal, and hope.
I need to hear the clinking of coins, the crashing of tables, and the roaring of a Lion.
I need to follow the weary One, who ducks the crowds to rest with those who know Him most.
I need to weep with Mary, to anoint Him with my tears.
I need to smell the perfume and indignation, gratitude and greed, juxtaposed like clashes of ancient hoards.
I need to recline against His breast, like John.
I need to marvel at the Emperor of the Stars, scrubbing mud from traveled toes.
I need to suffer weariness, yet stay awake and pray with Him.
I need the crow of the rooster to siphon pride from my bones.
I need to cry with Him in His torture, even while they run.
I need to forgive, even while they shout, “Crucify Him.”
I need to know the weight of injustice on my chest, for “this man has done nothing wrong.”
I need to understand what blood and water means—that there exists a grief which kills faster than torture.
I need to mourn. Oh, but I need to mourn…
I need to light a candle for Him—an old, out of fashion candle fitting for the saints of old—to remember that my faith is not new, and its goal is not relevance.
And before night’s weeping turns to morning’s joy, I need bow my head and speak the five most insufficient words I know:
Thank you for saving me.
Jason, this was so beautiful that I wish to see it published somewhere! Yet…I know that it is published in the annals of praise to our Liberating King Jesus!
Thank you, Holly 🙂
I’ve come back to reread this over and over. It is beautifully written. “I need to” as well
Painful Praises; son make acceptable sacrifices! Thank You Jesus for Your sacrifice!
Several times this year I have been considering the cost of the cross to Jesus. At this point, to me, it is captured in the words, He who knew no sin became sin for our sakes. Not only did He carry our sin, He became sin. It was the only way sin could be destroyed. But O the cost to the sinless Son! Not only to be covered with the filth, but to become the filth itself is quite beyond my comprehension.