Mary, Mother of Jesus

And now, the final story in my “Ignored Characters from the Easter Story”...

 Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.   ~ John 19:25

O God!  He hangs there!  My baby hangs there!  He is crying Lord!  My baby is crying!  Your baby is crying!  Why God?!  Oh Why?  He is in pain! Why must my son, my beloved child suffer?  O Lord, why could it not be me?

I cannot help him.  He hangs there, my baby boy, in agony.  When they pierced his hands, I heard him moan. I know those hands they pierced with nails; wrinkled and red on the day He was born, chubby and velvety soft when He learned how to walk, calloused and rough as a young carpenter.  I held those hands as we strolled together into the village.  I washed those hands as the dust from the road gathered in their creases.  I felt those hands around me as He hugged my neck and touched my face. 

O God!  Please comfort Him!  Please comfort your son!  I cannot protect him Lord!  My heart is being ripped from my chest because of His pain!  O God! O God! O God, can I touch Him?  Can I caress his face once more? 

I remember the night He was born.  I put my ear to his tiny chest to hear his heart beating.  It was steady and strong, just like a drum.  In the moonlight, I looked on this Miracle Baby that God have given me and I marveled at His perfection.  How could I love Someone so much so quickly?  I knew then that I wanted to protect Him forever.

I can’t get close to Him, Lord!  He is too high, too far away.  My arms can no longer embrace Him.  He is calling for you, do you hear?  My God, He thinks You have forsaken Him Lord!  Have you forsaken your only Son?  Have you forsaken my Baby Boy?  O God, I want to hold Him!  I have not forsaken my Son!  I will never stop loving my Son!  Does He know how much I love Him?  My spirit dies with Him, O God!

I remember the night the Spirit of God visited me and told me that I would bear God’s Son.  It was so magnificent!  So unbelievable!  So confusing!  Why would the Creator of all want me to carry His child?  Why a meager peasant girl?  But I did carry the Son of Man…in my womb, in my arms, in my heart.  I did carry Him, but I can no longer.  He hangs on that cross, torn and tortured.  I stand on this dirt, dying a different kind of death. Helpless.

Is He dead, my Lord?  Has He died?  I want to go to Him.  I want to listen for His breathing.  Is He still breathing Lord?  O God!  They have pierced His side!  They have damaged my Son again!  He is bleeding God!  Blood and water are pouring from His wound! 

Sometimes when He was a baby, and even when He was an older child, I would go in quietly and sit by His mat and watch His chest rise and fall.  I would listen for His rhythmic breaths.  Then I would silently creep out, comforted by the obvious life in my Child; peaceful because of my Child’s peacefulness. 

Is this the end?  Is my Baby boy gone forever?  Is He with You Lord?  He said He must first descend to Hell.  Is He there Lord?  Is this not Hell enough? Are you listening to me God?  What is happening to my Son?  Your Son?  Is He really bearing my sin?  Even my sin at this moment?  Is that why my perfect Son had to die, Father?  What is this accomplishing, this decimation of my Child?  What good is this, Lord?  Save your Son!  Save me God!

God told me He was to die.  He said my Son, His Son, was born to die, born for sorrow.  It didn’t seem real—the suffering, the sorrow, the dying.  It didn’t seem real when He told me that He was to die for me—my Son would be my Savior—my Son would bear all sin—even my sin.  My Son would take man’s curse upon Himself.  My Son would rise again.

Will He rise, my Lord?  Will my Son rise from the dead?  Is it real? He said He would conquer death.  How will He conquer death?  O Lord, take care of my Baby. My heart aches, my mind screams for justice.  Where is the justice Lord?  Why, God?  Why did you give me this burden? I am terrified my Lord.  I am terrified by your will.  What is your will, Lord?  Show me the way of your will. 

The hot sun had shown on my face.  But now it is dark.  So very dark.  It has happened.  I stand here helpless.  My Son hangs there limp and lifeless.  He is still my Baby.  I am still His mother.  How can I move from here?  My Baby hangs on a cross.  They have killed him.  They have killed me.  Everything is colorless.  Yet, I want to believe He will yet live.  The horror of this day makes me doubt. 

O God, sustain my spirit.  I commend it into your hands.  My baby has gone.  Please do not leave me, my Lord.  I need You my Lord, O God, I need You.  I am so confused, so very confused.  You hold my breath, my feeble breath in your hands, you keep my broken heart beating.  Only You can have a plan for this nightmare, my Lord. Only You can make Him live again.  Only you can make all things new. 

Yes, Lord.  Make all things new.

Make all things new.

Make all things new.