By His Wounds: The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Jesus is Crucified

I nearly wept while writing this, guys.  I can feel Mary's pain during this.  Both Mary's.  Jesus went through all this suffering for me...and for YOU.  And what have we done to deserve that?  We've sinned.  Over and over again we've sinned :'(

Jesus is Crucified

Mary was beside herself with worry. She was exhausted from hardly any sleep and weak from eating nearly nothing. She and her husband, Joseph, hobbled along Jerusalem, looking around, calling out, and praying.

Was it God's will for this to happen? Or was it just some sort of accident and Mary's fault? Or Joseph's fault? Mary had stopped arguing over who hadn't been watching Jesus. It didn't matter. What mattered was finding him. It'd was the third day. Where could he be? Mary had thought....she had just figured he was with her relatives and friends. Talking with Mary's mother or playing with Mary's cousins. But after a day was over, Mary came to realize he wasn't among them.

Joseph and Mary had returned to Jerusalem that night, frantically calling out Jesus' name, but he never answered. He never came running up to them, saying, "Mother! Father! I'm here! I'm here!" He was twelve, Mary knew, and old enough to care for himself, but she was still her Son. And God's Son.

Wiping the tears away from her eyes for the thousandth time, Mary turned to Joseph. Instead of scanning the crowd for their son, he was watching the teachers in the temple courts. They were conversing with one another about something, yet Mary was out of ear shot to hear what it was.

Mary, puzzled, watched as Joseph released her and hurried over to the temple. Mary followed, only to stop in her tracks when she saw the sight before her.

Jesus. Her Son—her dear, dear, boy—was in the middle of the temple, a huge smile on his face. He was speaking to the teachers, who were listening to him with great interesting. One after another they asked him questions about God and the Messiah, and Jesus answered each one with confidence.

When he spotted his Mother, Mary, he came running over to her and hugged her. Too astounded to yell at him, Mary choked out, "Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you."

Instead of apologizing, Jesus cocked his head at them, furrowed his brow, and asked, "Why were you searching for me? Didn't you know I had to be in my Father's house, Mother? Mother?"

Mary stumbled as she hurried up Golgotha—Place of the Skull. Her knees scraped against the giant rocks violently, yet her garments cushioned her fall some. John helped her stand, yet she pushed him off and continued her quest of where her Baby Boy would be killed by crucifixion.

Breathing heavily, she darted over to a vacant spot of the mountain, free of soldiers. She barely noticed John and Mary of Magdala come stand near her—that is, until Mary grasped her hand and John wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

Mary the Mother only had a moment to prepare herself before she spotted her dear child...her dear, perfect, child. God in the flesh. She tried to picture that beautiful young man who had, only twenty-one short years ago, been speaking in the temple to numerous great teachers. He'd been so full of life and happy to speak of his Father's—God's—work. Mary hadn't been angry that day. Confused, yes. But angry? How could she be? He'd asked, so innocently, why she had been searching. And why had she? Mary should have known that God would take care of their Son.

And Mary sure hoped he would care for their Son now, for he looked as if he was dead—dead and walking. He wasn't carrying his cross anymore, and his assistant had reluctantly left Jesus' side, only to hide away in the crowd and watch. Jesus' skin was so pale...yet so red. And glossy from the sweat. There wasn't an inch on him that hadn't been bruised or butchered. Every whip mark from the scourging earlier that day—when the soldiers had used glass shards and sticks composed of thorns—was composed of peeling skin, blood, and tissue. His once clear, smooth, and tan skin now looked like a piece of butchered meat.