Indeed, it is here now; the time has arrived,
They will be scattered and He will be deprived.
His return to shared glory will look like a loss,
But the path to redemption will stand on a cross.
Three times the garden grows tears with His prayer,
Three times they sleep among dreams unaware.
Soon three times denial will come to the light,
And three wooden crosses will rise into the sky.
He stands at the ready when armed men appear,
And with a kiss from the traitor—betrayal is here.
Fulfillment of arrest, no battle granted within,
But reprimands are handed to the sharp ears of His men.
A trial throughout hearings, but no one understands,
His accusers oblivious to His role as the Son of Man.
Annas to Caiaphas and Sanhedrin to Pilate,
The blame shifts in power, but His defense is silent.
A handoff to Herod tossed back to Pilate’s house,
Where he attempts three times to wash hands among the crowd.
But the crowds call for recourse, still Jesus offers no sound,
And Pilate trades a prisoner and a soul for a crown.
Barabbas is chosen for the freedom of guilt,
And on orders from Pilate blood begins to be spilled.
A whip served with laughter and a crown full of thorns,
The soldiers played dress up, Jesus now purple-adorned.
“Hail, King of the Jews!” they mock and they spit,
They make fun with worship and they slap and they hit.
They walk out before Him, as a messenger carries behind,
And they parade their own Savior before His own mother’s eyes.
The hidden dedication of sadness follows His direction,
Straight to the place where sin will have no protection.
A lamb without a warrior walks among hearts wrapped in stone,
As he enters the designation of His final call home.
There was no fair trial and no crime He committed,
But He is nailed to a criminal’s cross, not acquitted.
The jury of peers unequal condemns Him, no evidence clear.
They had convicted a man to death based only on fear.
The Son of few words refuses drink for the pain,
Only watches them hate Him, mocking His name.
They meant it for harm, but God’s plans were different,
Even there on the cross, Jesus offers the wonder of forgiveness.
“Yeah right, you’re the King!” as they laugh and they tease,
“Then you should be able to come down with ease!”
But He hangs nailed on that cross, to change all of our stories,
From a watching soldier to dear Mary, they witness the glory.
“You claimed you would rebuild a temple in just three days?”
“Where are your tools now for this building you’ll raise?”
The crowd unites in the killing and throws dice for His clothing,
While He directs His disciple and mom to keep each other and keep going.
Then the shouts come, “My God!” from the blood of His lips,
And “It is finished” is uttered by Jesus of Nazareth.
Mother and brothers cry out at the crime,
As the Son of Man saves the world, takes His last breath, and dies.
The sky darkens, the ground shakes, and the veil is torn completely in two,
While soldiers can now see the terror of the truth.
“This man was truly the Son of God!” now they declared,
As they experience the loss, some realize they cared.
They had murdered the innocent and slaughtered the Way,
Knowing now not He, but they, committed atrocities that day.
His skeleton of followers stood numb, heartbroken, and lost
They had just watched their teacher pay the ultimate cost.
To be continued . . .
