The Jesus Question

The Passion. What just happened inside as you read those words? Did your heart dip in solemn worship of the Christ? Were you washed in a wave of sad, beautiful joy? Did you pause, stilled by the bigness of God’s love and the extravagance of Christ’s sacrifice? Or did you zoom on by, wondering what I’d say next? Perhaps, you started tuning out, thinking just another Easter post. Maybe you even tripped over those words, stumbled because they don’t mean much to you and you’re not even really sure you want them to. Wherever they find you, I hope you keep reading.

We can spend a month or more preparing for Christmas, but how much time do we spend welcoming Easter? And yet, Christmas is the seed of something wonderful, while Easter is the bloom in all its bright glory, its sweet fragrance suffusing eternity. This is a time our hearts should make much of. All history, all eternity turns on these few days.

I purposed this year that I would live this Easter season more mindfully, both in my own heart and in how my family honored this time. And while I’m sure God would say there is still much room for improvement in how mindful I have been of Him, how He has blessed me as I have deliberately turned my heart and and the hearts of my family toward Him! No matter what’s gone on this week, there’s been a holy hush in my soul, a sweet perfume of His Presence in our home. As we washed each other’s feet on a blanket in the backyard, pored over the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ suffering, crunched on homemade latkes, smiled over bowls of matzo ball soup, and reflected on the rich symbolism of Passover–God was there in the sweet, the funny, the solemn. My heart has lingered over Jesus–who He is to me and who I want Him to be to my children.

There is this striking passage in Mark 8 where Jesus is talking with His disciples. He’s just miraculously fed several thousand people, ticked off the religious leaders, and healed a blind man. People are talking about Him. He’s causing a stir. And Jesus asks His disciples, “Who do people say I am?” They start rattling off everyone else’s opinions until Jesus stops them with an arresting question, “But who do you say I am?”

That cuts to the heart of things, doesn’t it? It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks about who Jesus is, we have to come before Him and answer that question for ourselves. And we are accountable for what we decide. Our eternity hangs in the balance. We can’t come to God based on who we are or what we’ve done. The only way to God is through Jesus and what He’s done. The world calls it His Passion, and it is. But I’m praying this Easter season that you will know it as your Salvation.

This isn’t something I’ve done before on the blog, but I’ve decided to share an original story if you’re of the mind to read it. I love to write fictional short stories that are blended into real Biblical narratives. I wrote this particular story several years ago around Easter time. The idea came while reading Matthew 21:14. It’s just after Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem in what would be the final week before His crucifixion. With His greatest suffering bearing down, Jesus is in the temple, healing the blind and the lame. Reading this verse, I began to wonder, What would it have been like to be a person He healed just days before He died? What would go through your mind, his violent death coming on the heels of your miracle?  And the seed of a story was born. While Amasai is not real, he represents people who very much were. People who Jesus healed, people who saw Him die, people who had to decide just like you and me, Who is Jesus?

I hope you enjoy the story, and I wish you the happiest of Easters!

The Burden Bearer

 

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One thought on “The Jesus Question

  1. This is a tremendous work, Honey. I don’t know how I missed it a month ago – other than it was the week that I was trying to close up things at work.

    I am very poor with words, but I am blessed that God gave you the gift of expression and I pray that He will continue to use you and your heart in a tremendous way to encourage and bless others.

    Love, Mom

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