the crooked path

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“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do. I will not forsake them.”
~Isaiah 42:16~

He’d been dead for four days.

Four days is four days too long to be dead if you ask me.  I didn’t get it.  If this man was their friend, if he really cared, why hadn’t he come sooner?  Now their brother was dead.  The women, so many women, took turns traveling their own trail of tears.  It was clear no man could help them now.

That’s what was going through my head when I saw Jesus.  There was nothing to him.  He looked weak, like he hadn’t had a decent meal in days, maybe weeks.  Everyone–Jesus, his disciples, the sisters, the women, the children, whatever men had made it home by then, they all were headed for the tomb.

I figured I might as well follow along.  I didn’t have much of a choice.  My cynicism drove me like a madman to the gallows.  Not by my will, but his.  His demise was imminent and I wasn’t about to miss this.  I wanted to see, to hear, how Jesus the teacher would dig himself out of this hole.

His humanity shocked the heart of the hillside.

I believed him then.  I had to.  Even the stones broke down at the groans of a grown man crying, like God himself had lost his first love, or was about to.  “Father!” he shouted.   I looked over at Mary, his mother.  Tears rolled down the widow’s cheeks. Joseph had been dead for years.

He’d saved others but he couldn’t even save his friend.

He couldn’t help himself.

Jesus wept.

 

 

 

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