Good Friday Reflection #2

Nicodemus I watched it all. I tried to defend him. I tried to tell them. They would not listen. My influence seems to have diminished recently, they do not know that I went to see him, do they? I am not ashamed, but they would be so surprised. Maybe even disgusted.

I cannot believe this has happened, its all happened so quickly. Jesus was taken and beaten, beaten so badly that I could not bear to look.

They grabbed him and made him carry the cross until he could bear it no longer. Seeing him hanging there now I cannot believe how wrong they all are. How wrong I was.

Jesus is the Son of God. I believe in him.

It is getting dark, he cries out but no one goes to him. No one is allowed to administer any help. The soldiers mock him, they laugh amongst themselves.

I am standing far away. I can see him, but people cannot see me. They do not know what is in my heart. I am not worthy to be in the intimate crowd by the cross. Those are his beloved followers, the people who unashamedly followed Jesus. Not like me. I was shrouded with fear and doubt, creeping around in the dark and speaking with Jesus at night.

I will never forget his words to me, that “no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again”. Born again not physically, but spiritually, freed from the law and the bindings that come with it.

How my heart breaks!

He lived by the truth alone. He is the Son of God! Given by God so everyone can have eternal life!

It is time.

I see my friend Joseph of Arimathea and we speak with Pilate. He allows us to take down Jesus body.

We carefully wrap Jesus in strips of linen cloth and place aromatic spices upon him according to the Jewish custom. We carry him to the garden. His body is unbelievably broken.

We push away the stone, it takes both our strength. Gently, gently we go inside with Jesus and lay him in this quiet place. This tomb which has seen nothing but darkness. Until today.